On the way to work this morning I was exceeding the posted speed limit as I do almost every day on the particular stretch of highway I was traveling on. After enduring a difficult merge onto one highway, bumper to bumper traffic, erratic lane changes, and frequent braking for no apparent reason on my typical commute, I finally emerge from the congested chaos. The road splits and, on most days, a wide open stretch of roadway beckons. Beckons me to depress the accelerator and take advantage of the freedom of movement suddenly afforded me.
Today, I was clipping along about seventy-five miles per hour: a good twenty over the proscribed speed. For some reason, I happened to glance down at my speedometer, thought twice about the pace I was setting, and eased off on the gas pedal. Just then I rounded a corner and noticed a vehicle belonging to the local constabulary squatting on the median. And two maroon Minnesota State Patrol cars on the right side of the highway waiting to pounce on unsuspecting violators of our fair state's traffic laws. And TWO more troopers a bit further up, who had already nailed drivers who felt the need for speed on this beautiful summer morning.
"Poor bastards," I muttered as I sailed by at a reasonable sixty-one miles per hour, "I feel your pain."
Sometimes it's not about the gain, but about avoiding the pain. And I missed some hurtin' in my wallet by a whisker this morning.
With a start like that, how can this not be a great day?
No comments:
Post a Comment