I seem to have been cursed with being stuck behind slow drivers this week, and I don't mean someone who's driving one or two miles per hour below the speed limit. Oh no, the people I'm getting stuck behind don't seem to feel safe unless they're driving about half of the posted speed limit.
When this happens on a freeway, it's no big deal. Sure, it's a little frustrating, but you bide your time, wait for the folks in the fast lane to zip by you, make your lane change and pass, taking the mandatory look into their car to see just how old the offender is. If you're particularly stressed or in a hurry, you can also honk impatiently while you're waiting for your turn to pass, or give them the one-fingered wave as you sail by.
When you're in a residential area though, it's a little different. First off, the speed limit is much lower there. So when you end up behind a slow driver -- especially those I'm-gonna-go-half-the-speed-limit folks, you end up going so slow that you're getting passed by bicycles and motorized wheelchairs. And in a residential area, it's a little tough to tromp on the gas and fly by the slowed-to-a-crawl offender, because there's always the chance of a stray kid deciding to fetch his errant basketball, the fear that fluffy the I'm-almost-a-dog Poodle will run directly under your tires while little Sally watches on in horror, or the prospect that two cars are parked directly across from each other, leaving no room to pass. Slow drivers in these residential zones are the worst because you can't really pass them, and they seem to know it. So when these I'm-so-old-I-knew-God-when-he-was-a-little-boy drivers get in the residential areas, they seem to take sadistic pleasure in slowing down to a speed so low, that you can actually see the patern in their tires. They KNOW you can't pass. I think it's a game for them.
"Hey Martha."
"Yeah Claude?"
"There's a car behind us."
"Great, let's slow down."
"You read my mind, kitten." says Claude, easing off of the accellerator.
"Still too fast, Claude. Hit the brake... and slide to the middle of the road, so he can't pass. That'll piss him off."
(Evil old giggles ensue.)
And the worst part about all of this is, it's not always the blue haired crew that's impeding my progress. I'm starting to see people who aren't even close to retirement age who seem to have forgotten where the gas pedal is in their car. Hey, I know we're having a gas crisis, and that slowing down will save a little money, but geez... there's a point where the engine's RPMs get too low and it actually becomes MORE expensive to drive slow. What, are you PRACTICING for retirement?
Believe it or not though, it's been a quiet week in my little world, so the slow drivers aren't stressing me out. I haven't been stuck behind them when I'm late for work. In fact, it seems to be on days where I'm running a little early, so this is probably a blessing in disguise. I mean, after all, it's not like I want to submit myself to a few more minutes of work. So when I've ended up behind these creepers, I think to myself, "Would I rather be stuck in the car for an extra few minutes, or would I rather be stuck at work for an extra few minutes?" The slow driver usually wins that contest.
In today's hustle and bustle society (is 'bustle' really a word?!?), it's always going to be a bit annoying when you get stuck behind a slow driver. But if it's got to happen to me, I'd rather it happen when I'm not stressed and/or in a hurry. If it's got to happen, I'd prefer that it happen all at once, leaving me karmically free from slow drivers for a while. But most of all, if this is my greatest complaint, then life's pretty damn good.
When this happens on a freeway, it's no big deal. Sure, it's a little frustrating, but you bide your time, wait for the folks in the fast lane to zip by you, make your lane change and pass, taking the mandatory look into their car to see just how old the offender is. If you're particularly stressed or in a hurry, you can also honk impatiently while you're waiting for your turn to pass, or give them the one-fingered wave as you sail by.
When you're in a residential area though, it's a little different. First off, the speed limit is much lower there. So when you end up behind a slow driver -- especially those I'm-gonna-go-half-the-speed-limit folks, you end up going so slow that you're getting passed by bicycles and motorized wheelchairs. And in a residential area, it's a little tough to tromp on the gas and fly by the slowed-to-a-crawl offender, because there's always the chance of a stray kid deciding to fetch his errant basketball, the fear that fluffy the I'm-almost-a-dog Poodle will run directly under your tires while little Sally watches on in horror, or the prospect that two cars are parked directly across from each other, leaving no room to pass. Slow drivers in these residential zones are the worst because you can't really pass them, and they seem to know it. So when these I'm-so-old-I-knew-God-when-he-was-a-little-boy drivers get in the residential areas, they seem to take sadistic pleasure in slowing down to a speed so low, that you can actually see the patern in their tires. They KNOW you can't pass. I think it's a game for them.
"Hey Martha."
"Yeah Claude?"
"There's a car behind us."
"Great, let's slow down."
"You read my mind, kitten." says Claude, easing off of the accellerator.
"Still too fast, Claude. Hit the brake... and slide to the middle of the road, so he can't pass. That'll piss him off."
(Evil old giggles ensue.)
And the worst part about all of this is, it's not always the blue haired crew that's impeding my progress. I'm starting to see people who aren't even close to retirement age who seem to have forgotten where the gas pedal is in their car. Hey, I know we're having a gas crisis, and that slowing down will save a little money, but geez... there's a point where the engine's RPMs get too low and it actually becomes MORE expensive to drive slow. What, are you PRACTICING for retirement?
Believe it or not though, it's been a quiet week in my little world, so the slow drivers aren't stressing me out. I haven't been stuck behind them when I'm late for work. In fact, it seems to be on days where I'm running a little early, so this is probably a blessing in disguise. I mean, after all, it's not like I want to submit myself to a few more minutes of work. So when I've ended up behind these creepers, I think to myself, "Would I rather be stuck in the car for an extra few minutes, or would I rather be stuck at work for an extra few minutes?" The slow driver usually wins that contest.
In today's hustle and bustle society (is 'bustle' really a word?!?), it's always going to be a bit annoying when you get stuck behind a slow driver. But if it's got to happen to me, I'd rather it happen when I'm not stressed and/or in a hurry. If it's got to happen, I'd prefer that it happen all at once, leaving me karmically free from slow drivers for a while. But most of all, if this is my greatest complaint, then life's pretty damn good.
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