The moral of the motoring-along story
You could say this column has a moral to the story.
In this case maybe it’s that we go fast only to actually go slower yet, we rush only to get more and more behind.
I’ve certainly experienced this how-can-that-be scenario.
I’ve been on both sides of the fence, for example, when I’m driving. Sometimes I’m in a hurry, running a bit late, frustrated that the person in front of me is one of those “Sunday drivers” out on the road the wrong day of the week no less, on a Tuesday or Wednesday, taking his good old time going nowhere fast.
And I’ve been that “Sunday driver” myself, only I’ve actually pulled over or in a lot somewhere just so cars can go ahead of me and move along as they like, however fast they so choose. There’s nothing worse than looking in your rear-view mirror to see someone’s riding your tail, their impatience robbing you of any sense of mental peace you may have had.
But then sometimes I’ve been a “Sunday driver” only because my speed has been dictated by the speed of the vehicle in front of me — not much you can do under those circumstances as a rule. You can get bent out of shape about it or give your patience muscle a little workout.
In this case, I was driving to work in that pretty-early time slot but there’s always traffic on the road just the same. My commute is from Richmond to downtown Steubenville so I’m driving on state Route 43 for a spell before I get on the U.S. Route 22 highway or, in many cases, I elect for what I think of as the scenic route through Wintersville and Steubenville in case I want to stop and get a coffee.
Many mornings as I travel Route 43, I marvel at God’s artistic variations of the sky and rising sun or I sometimes reminisce about how the stretch of 43 has changed since I was little with houses gone, business development and traffic lights, for heaven’s sake, something I never imagined would come to pass
On this particular morning, there was a truck in front of me not going fast but not going slow either and there was a truck behind me, obviously in hurry-hurry mode.
At the crest of the hill, the truck in front slowed considerably as did I, a move I quickly realized was to accommodate a gaggle of geese crossing the road, a sight I wasn’t really expecting but was kind of amused by, even more so, when a straggler started across to play catch-up with his buddies.
Granted, these geese maybe have a death wish doing that or they were pushing the extreme-behavior envelope here, but they made it safely, thanks to the truck in front.
The truck behind me? I’m guessing he’s not a member in good standing of any humane society. As the truck in front started along and so did I, the truck behind hightailed it around the two of us, passing in a no-passing area.
Maybe the guy had a legitimate reason or emergency to be in a rush. Then again, maybe he was a plain old blatant idiot. I was half tempted to beep my horn but, in this day and age of road rage, I enjoy breathing and living too much.
Back to the moral of the story, the going faster only to go slower.
The guy no sooner was speeding along when the light changed at the Wal-Mart Distribution Center, a red light that allowed two tractor-trailers to pull out ever so slowly in front of him.
I admit I smiled to myself, thinking haste makes waste.
It apparently wasn’t his day to make record time or to meet any deadlines.
At any rate, thanks for reading. Hope you have a week that’s just the right speed.