Speeding

I drive too fast.

And they got me.

I was on my way home from a drummer audition and I was going about 85 on the Interstate when the lights came on and I had to cross two lanes to get to the shoulder of the road.

Busted.

No excuses, no emergency to get to, just foot too heavy on the gas pedal.

I was still apprehensive.

In this day and age, a traffic stop can easily end in death.

But, the officer was a nice guy and quickly did his thing and I was on my way home.

I just finished the defensive driving course online and I am still awaiting a fine to go along with it, but at least there will be no points assessed on my driver’s license and no deleterious effects to my insurance premiums, so LESSON LEARNED.

What do I have to be in a hurry for, anyway?

I’m retired.

I didn’t speed in Arizona, except when you hit a stretch of desert freeway out in the boonies, then it’s like let’s see what this bad boy can do. But Phoenix is just too big and populated to get away with reckless speeding.

Bering a Mexican living with maybe five other Mexicans in this state, makes me a target of sorts, and I really don’t want to die out in children of the corn country while toothless miscreants cheer on my murderers.

There’s the other kind of speeding.

Little white pills.

Speed, bennies, whatever you call them, were never something I cared for. Why would you take something to make you feel nervous?

It seems like every one of my girlfriends in the late seventies and early eighties ate the little pills.

I will say this.

My condo was spotless at all times, especially after one of my historic party/orgies conducted when I had three prostitutes renting out my top floor.

I’m probably nervous enough anyway without drugs.

That’s why I preferred drugs that slowed me down.

The trick is to not do too much to where you don’t slow down, you stop.

Forever.

Another reason I believe I still have something the Lord wants me to do before I am Taken. If over a hundred LSD trips, kilos of cocaine, pounds of Quaaludes, and sacks of assorted other pills weren’t enough, I drank enough for any three normal people. These are most of the things that contributed to me now getting along with 1 ½ legs instead of two.

Not bragging at all, in fact, just the opposite as I thank God every day for More Time and for my wife Karen.

It certainly wasn’t the right way or the wrong way, it was my way (sorry Frank Sinatra) and I am damn lucky to have lived through it.

I finally heard a story that made me smile.

In the madness of yet another mass shooting, an officer heard the gunshots, ran TO the sound, and “neutralized” the maniac asshole.

Like they are SUPPOSED to do to earn their paychecks.

Stay well.