Wednesday, March 17, 2004

What's so wrong with the speed limit anyway? Is it such a crime to stay under the speed limit? The answer to this may not come readily to mind so I will give it away: No, it is not a crime to drive the speed limit. It is, in fact the law. Does that not blow your mind?

Have you ever gotten really in touch with how much you despise the slow person in front of you? It becomes impossible to imagine what could be causing them to putz along like that, nothing but their blatant idiocy, obviously.

Mellow out, man. I'm not an idiot. I've thought this through. And I'm a reformed speeder -- reformed anythings tend to swing to the opposite extreme, and that may be where I am now, I'm willing to concede that right up front. But start by thinking about driving.

You are sitting on a virtual couch, or perhaps a body-contoured lounge chair (aka 'bucket seat'), propelled to your destination without exerting any significant personal energy, in comfort and relative safety. You are surrounded by windows that allow the vistas you pass to please your eyes and rest your mind, if you let them. You can tune in your radio and hear the news of the world, or classical, pop, or hip-hop music, or a ballgame. You could pop in a cd and hear anything you choose -- "War and Peace" or Harry Potter's latest adventures or "Fast Food Nation"...

AND YOU'RE COMPLAINING? This is what blows my mind. We are cradled in luxury (even if you're driving a beater, face it, you're not walking three miles uphill in the snow) and we are all complaining. "Gas costs too much." "The engine is too noisy." "The seat belt scratches my neck." "The drink holder won't hold a liter bottle of water." And the most prevalent complaint of all: "All these other people enjoying the same privilege are in my way."

Once I was on I-80 heading west (which, amazingly enough, is also 580 east) inching my way to San Francisco on a gorgeous sunny Saturday. I was driving my Honda CRX with the windows and the sunroof open, wearing a silk shirt and a short skirt and a big SUV fulla fellas was coming up in the lane to my right. I felt self-conscious and glanced up, expecting a leer. The passenger in the SUV glanced down and looked back at the road ahead. And it hit me: He thinks I'm traffic. I'm not traffic! He's traffic! I'm going somewhere. He's the one who's just taking up space, like these billion other cars.

I want a bumpersticker that says "I'm Not Traffic."
I want a bumbersticker that says "Pretend I'm A Person."
I want a bumbersticker that says "The Speed Limit Is Not A Crime."

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You've been writing in your blog since March? Funny how time slips away. Just the other day you were complaining about the many decisions that you have to make each day as a mom...that seems so far away from this posting when you'd like everyone else to just chill and slow down. That's the thing with thoughts and ideas, they come and least until we develop conviction for them, which is what it seems that you've done with organic food and vitamins. Okay, I'm rambling, sue me.

This site is hard to figure out. I can't get to your more recent, as in today's post.

Guess, next time I have something to say to you, I'll actually sign up with my email address or meet whatever the requirements are for publishing non-anonymously.