Every morning I race to work. I drive as fast as I can, weaving around all those parked cars on the highway. I love to jam my accelerator pedal down, triggering a downshift. Man Oh Man, am I a race driver.
Most days I cruise through a school zone at 45MPH - the speed limit, or, maybe 10 MPH more - in time to avoid the "20 MPH, asshole, or it's your ass!" threat that plagues this city. There are more school zones here per square mile than casinos on The Strip. But the fact that it's not yet a school zone doesn't stop at least seven idiots from slowing down to 15 MPH anyway to show how safe and responsible they are. Eat my dust.
I don't care if a dust-eating granny pulls up at the stop light right next to me. It no longer makes me feel like a schmuck. It's no longer a matter of "You won't get there any faster, so just please drive safely, jerk!" At least I had fun getting there, and fast.
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