Beware of speed, my friend

When I speed, the law is on me like a hawk on prey.

Or, I should say, when I used to speed, back before I became a parent and decided I wanted to live to see my child grow up.

A few weekends ago, I re-dedicated myself to safe driving behavior when a Hummer tried to pass my car going downhill on the hairpin turns of Hardscrabble Canyon. I wondered why the driver kept trying to go too fast in a treacherous place, endangering any vehicle climbing uphill. There’s no shoulder there, just a rock wall on one side, a cliff on the other.

It’s summer, and drivers, unafraid of ice and snow, drive fast. The sun and blue skies thrill us into ease behind the wheel, and the desire to go faster and faster climbs with the temperature, it seems. Later that same trip, a couple in a Mercedes convertible decided to pass us going uphill on a straightaway bump. The oncoming traffic was not visible when the elderly gentleman swooped over, zipping past my stolid Subaru. The speeding vehicle heading our way had at least 30 seconds to avoid the couple, and did so.

I wasn’t always so lawful. Back in the day, I got so many speeding tickets so close together that I nearly lost my license. Everyone speeds, especially in the country. Especially when you know the roads. Or when you’re having fun driving a fancy vehicle in new territory, which I suspect was the case with the Hummer.

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