500 Words, Day 9 -- The Sign Says "Yield," Not "Surrender"

I drove too fast on the freeway yesterday.   

It's merely a suggestion, anyway.

I feel like I need to confess that.  I had the best of intentions.  I do every time I get behind the wheel.  “Okay.  This time I’m going to stay calm.  I’m going to maintain a safe speed with a safe distance between my car and that of the idiot fellow human being whose spirit I honor and respect ahead of me.”   

Namaste.

And every time, I abandon that plan within the first fifteen minutes behind the wheel.  

It all starts when I have to take evasive action.  There are some horrible drivers out there.  People do not know how to merge.  Just so we’re clear, it’s like a zipper.  You drive in your lane as long as possible, then it’s one car from each merging lane.  One from Column A, one from Column B, until we’ve zipped that zipper all the way TF up.    People who merge too soon and are just as bad as people who merge too late and they all need to be taken out back and shot.   

Kidding.  Road rage is a real thing and you have to be careful.   Don't be out there trying to teach lessons in ethics with two tons of deadly metal. That's not your job.

But in this particular case, the trigger for my need for speed was an incompetent merger.  He got anxious and jumped the gun and darted in front of me instead of rolling forward to his proper place with one car from Column A in between him and his Column B compatriot.  

I always like to have an escape plan, an exit strategy, if you will.   I’m always looking around, always aware of the open spaces around me in case I need to take that evasive action.  I need to know when and where I can move my car if I need it to be, you know, NOT WHERE IT IS.   In yesterday’s case, I needed to bolt because the incompetent merger had created that exact situation.  Time to go.  I had been watching behind me and saw a space open up where I could shift left and get past this guy before his mistake turned into a trainwreck.   I stepped on the gas and blew by all the unfortunate potential victims.   

Namaste, bitches.  We out.   

So it was necessary to speed to evade that potentially dangerous situation.  But once the needle was up around 80, it was very difficult to willingly bring it back down.   My resolution to behave myself went up in the exhaust from my tailpipe.  As it were.  I headed for the left lane.   And stopped counting seconds between me and the spirit in the car in front of me.  Slowpoke.  Cue Ludacris.   You know that song, right?

I drove my car too fast on the freeway yesterday.    For about four consecutive hours. I’m making the return trip on Sunday.  I know I’ll do better this time.    

Namaste. Again. Pinky swear.