[sperry]

Dean, I for some ungodly reason, was thinking about the same thing in the shower this morning. Here's my best solution:


Driver bolts from the Marina at high speed, fully knowing that the bomb on the undercarriage could explode at any moment.

Bad guy on the boat fingers the radio detonator, almost thoughfully, as he counts to himself.

Driver darts down the crowded marina access road, heading for a small guard house that's at the enterance to a private yacht club. The car is near the limit, fishtailing widely, as the driver cuts through some small decorative shrubbery in the road's median which blows impressively over the front of the car lending to the feeling of speed and being on the edge of control. The driver darts the car towards the exit side of the guard house, the "CAUTION: SEVER TIRE DAMAGE" sign is plainly visible.

The guard in the guardhouse sees this massive black sedan barreling down on him, and jumps up in the guardhouse as if to say "hey, you can't come in here!", but only gets out "hey..." before realizing he doesn't care enough about his dead-end job to risk sitting getting run over by an out of control car, and bolts out the back door in a cloud of donut crumbs.

The Audi actually *drifts* through the yacht club exit, the tires deflating on impact with the spikes embedded in the ground. The spikes also catch the bomb, stripping it off of the underside of the car. The momentum of the car's power slide carries it well clear of the guardhouse.

At just that moment, the bad guy triggers the detonator with a smug smile of satisfaction.

The guardhouse erupts in an explosion of fire, splinters, and donuts. The guard, of course, had just run clear enough of the guardhouse to get blown into the air, but lands unharmed.

The Audi has slid to a stop on the lawn of the yacht club, where there's a snooty party that has come to a stop to watch the comotion. Everyone's stunned, holding their chapagne and cigars w/ jaws dropped. The driver puts down his window to give the crowd a quick look, and glances back at the smoldering guardhouse. After a quick sigh of relief, the driver taps a button in the cockpit and his tires immediately re-inflate, and he prodeced to tear-ass, spinning a half-brody on the lawn in the process of leaving the yacht club.

He drives out the entrance side of the smoldering guardhouse, snapping the gate, which is the only thing still standing after the bomb's destruction.


I figure it's got just as much cheese, without the complete incredulity of the barrel-roll jump into a crane. Alas, I think the re-inflating tires gimick has been done in a Bond film already.