Speed
I should have gotten a speeding ticket today. You know that moment where you're driving on autopilot, not 100% realizing that you may be approaching up to 15 miles per hour over the speed limit? And then, you see a highway patrol car?
Yeah, me neither. My brother once made me laugh out loud about this kind of experience...where you're driving along, and suddenly it's too late. In a flash, you notice the police car and the officer standing outside the vehicle with his radar gun pointed directly at you, as if it's some sort of futuristic 'truth weapon' that can read your guilt in an instant. At this very moment, (if you're speeding, of course), it's impossible to feel anything but the same sensation as a gazelle with a broken leg running from a cheetah. You're THE ONE, picked out of the pack; the individual getting the ticket. Right? But here's the funny clue (per my brother's brilliance): If you see the cop slide his radar gun into his hip holster, you're done. Your instincts are correct, and he's chosen you, swiftly coming in for the kill.
There it was, the definitive sign that he'd caught me. I even saw him get. In. The. Car. I felt my pulse quicken. My upper lip was sweating just a slight bit as I feverishly checked my rear view mirror for his approach. Is he there? Are his lights on? Which lane is he in? How fast is he driving? ...where is he?
These thoughts ran through my mind with tremendous speed, even though my physical speed was slowing by the second. This is it. It was my time, and there was no preventing the inevitable. It was time for my ticket. Who am I to complain? I mean, for all the times I'd gotten away with speeding, I certainly deserved the ticket. I might even just owe it to the judicial system at this point.
In one moment, I saw his lights...but then, he was gone. Turns out it was a brother, a fellow auto-sibling who had been easily traveling at equal speeds to the rest of us, who was picked off. For some unfair reason, he was chosen out of the pack before the black muscle car with the angry headlights, the gutsy Prius and ME, who was leading the group to victory. How could this happen? Is there some penance owed to a divine karmic bank account? I will pay, I promise.
Suddenly, I'm conscious of my speed. My overwhelming sense of gratitude leaves me focused on the present moment...my hands at 10:00 and 2:00, my directional choices and cautious lane changes are presented with care and precision. It's all good; I'm an honorary driver...who gets to live another day.
Photo Credit: Jonathan Allison
