Monday. June 1, 2015. 7:15 a.m. 54 degrees. Rain. Fog. Heading west along 300. Composing a note in my head to the driver of the car behind me:
Dear impatient driver riding my bumper and flashing your headlights trying to make me speed up: It's not my fault you're late for work. (Again. I'm sure.) This is a winding, hilly, two-lane road. It's raining. It's foggy. The speed limit on the straightaways may be 55 but it drops down to 45 on the curves and there are lots of curves. There are other cars ahead of me. And it's a school day. There are buses slowing things down going both ways. Which means there are other impatient drivers coming the other way late for work like you who are going to take the first opportunity to pass without looking, like I expect you will try the second you think you see an opening, so I have to be on the lookout for them.. 50 mph tops is about right for this road in this weather at this time of day. There’s no way I'm going to go 65 so you don't get yelled at again by your boss. Deal with it today and get up 15 minutes earlier tomorrow. And, if you didn't get it, my slowing down to 30 for a stretch there was my way of telling you all this plus something else.