"Slow" has been my watchword for a while now, even before I myself moved so very slowly. I just stopped being in a hurry some years ago. Ask any of my friends.
I tend to do everything slowly, except eat, talk and jump to conclusions. Maybe it is
just my particular neurological bent, but my internal speedometer is set slower than
yours. I haven’t had a speeding ticket since the early 70’s and I’ve never had a wreck
in my life (knock on wood), so there are distinct advantages.
When I moved out to the countryside to live, I just assumed (always a tricky
proposition) that life out here would be slower and that was very attractive to me.
In many ways life is slower out here in the hills, but the roads sure aren’t. If
anything, driving on our country lanes is more dangerous than driving on a highway.
Not only are people going really fast up those hills and around those corners, but
then suddenly there’s Bambi in your headlights, either right smack dab in the
middle of the road or poised to leap out at a moment’s notice.
Where ARE you people headed in such a hurry?
Drivers out here appear to be training for NASCAR. Even this time of the year when
the deer are plentiful and when your chances of hitting one are pretty good, people
do not slow down. The first car in a line is apparently supposed to act like a
snowplow for the ones behind it. Ever stop to wonder what would happen if the car
you are driving so close behind actually DID hit a deer? Would you be able to keep
from plowing into them next?
Our country lanes are truly raceways. The drivers are in a big hurry, they get angry
when they are forced to slow down by drivers like me who, at least in the nighttime
have slowed so as not to encounter that deer at 60 mph. They flash their brights at
me and honk and get up real close to my back bumper, often so close I can no longer
see them. When they finally do pass me, either legally or illegally, I sometimes get a
clear view of their middle fingers hoisted in my general direction.
Real neighborly, y’all.
And I must say, the local constabulary doesn’t seem all that interested in slowing
down the pace. The cops are the fastest ones on the road. If there is anyone who
seems always to be in a huge hurry, it will be a car with a bank of lights on top of it. I
am inclined to believe that these cars are not always on their way to an emergency.
I mean, if you are headed some place really important, turn those lights on and that
will be a lot more convincing. I am pretty sure some people become peace officers
just so they can drive faster than anyone else and never again get a speeding ticket.
Our roads out here have few actual passing lanes and are rarely striped to allow
passing, either. Too winding, too hilly, too narrow or is it just too much trouble to
design our roads with the variable velocities of vehicles in mind? I sometimes
think it is simply a nefarious plot by TxDot and their buddies in the road industry to
make people clamor for bigger roads because seems to me there are plenty of places
that could be made perfectly safe passing zones, but they aren’t.
Not having enough places to pass slower cars seems to me a major oversight when
designing a country road. There are some people who want to drive more slowly
and our back roads have trucks hauling hay, rocks and livestock. Many of our older
neighbors drive slowly so they can preserve their mobility and still be safe on the
road. Other folks are just in a hurry. Surely, our roadways can be better designed to
accommodate this diversity.
Our part of the world has so much beautiful scenery, but at the speed my fellows are
traveling, I doubt they are taking much time to enjoy it. If there is a race to the finish
line I don’t know about, please let me know which of you people ends up the winner.
Maybe there is a trophy.
I think I started driving slower, and more deliberately, during that time of my life
when I was a bus driver. I begin to take driving very seriously because I had the
lives of countless passengers as my responsibility. It was no longer just me and
whoever was in my car, I sometimes had 60 people at one time hurdling through
space with me and my actions, my reflexes and my ability to make good decisions
was the only thing between them and disaster.
Driving became for me like a dance. We drivers whirled and twirled on that ribbon
of asphalt and concrete, our tons of steel dipping and gliding past one another
without touching, never touching, often close, but never touching. That was the
dance. Pounce ahead, let that one pass, speed up to go around, slow down to make
the next maneuver. Just don’t ever touch and do not ever break the rhythm of the
road.
There is no winner in a dance.
Maybe slowing down is not a problem at all, but an answer to all our problems.
Maybe our lack of passing zones and the presence of that hay truck up ahead could
be turned into an opportunity to rethink your velocity, maybe turn down your inner
speedometer a notch.
Slow down and save. Save gasoline, save on car repairs, save the lives of deer and
humans and raccoons and skunks and dogs and cats and even the buzzards
munching on previous roadkill. Slow down and save millions of taxpayer dollars by
not having to build newer and bigger roads. Slow down and save your peace of
mind and mine.
So, if you see me on our back roads in my Jeep with the peace sign on the back going only 50 some night when you are hopped up on urban angst and really want to go 70, don’t bother flashing your brights or honking at me, it doesn’t work.
There is no way I am speeding up just because you are in a hurry.
We still have to share this road, and I am ahead of you.
So, how about it? Slow down and enjoy the ride.
Susan Cook
8 December 2009
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