Six Lanes

People drive too damn fast.

The speed limit on Highway 99 is 65 mph. I want technology to come up with a way to project a hologram above my car with a custom message that says, "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THE WORD LIMIT MEANS???" Doing 65 behind a "slow" truck, I had people screaming past me in both the left and right lanes, leaving no more than a car-length between them and the vehicles they pulled in front of and behind.

God help us, have they never seen what an impact on a highway does to some stupid coyote or cat? Do they really think a Ford Focus is going to protect them from that? Do they think that their Yukon won't do that to the kids in the back of that Beetle?

We made it there -- Modesto -- and back again, alive. Driving on the highway always improves my prayer life. I commend my soul to God as I turn onto the On Ramp, and I thank God for the preservation of my earthly life on the Off Ramp. While I'm on the highway, I beg God to help me not impede my transition from this world to the next by worrying about the pain of crushing vehicular death for me or my passengers.

On every street or road, if the speed limit is 30 mph, the convention is that if you're doing less than 40, you're holding up traffic; if the limit is 70 mph, then you had better be doing 80, or someone will tailgate to force you to speed up. I hate that, so if you happen to be following a white Vibe with CA plates, be prepared to annoyingly adhere to the speed limit, or less if there's a downpour of rain or a wall of fog.

If that's too slow for you, change lanes, speed up, and don't forget to commend your soul to God with special requisition for forgiveness for being an impatient asshole.