Thank You, Mr. Trooper

Yes, I get a lot of speeding tickets.  I deserve most of them.

If you get a lot of tickets, you get pretty relaxed about it.  It’s more of a game to see how long you can go between stops than a real issue, though it is expensive recreation.  I should probably take up golf or something.

In December I met a nice State Trooper in Kansas City, Missouri.  That losing round of catch-me-if-you-can was only $83.  I guess that’s why I was off my game again this week, when I met a nice State Trooper in Kansas City, Kansas.  Actually, this one wasn’t as nice and his game was almost twice as expensive.  Most of you won’t understand why I was so excited to find I was in a different state than when I lost the round last month, but basically if you get a ticket in the same state in less than 30 days it’s not good.  I counted this round as a draw.  Yes, he got me, but I was across the river.  Score!

When you get a ticket, people always ask you the same question, “How fast were you going?”  This week I happened to be in the same city as my rule-following-speed-limit-following boss, Tom Massey.  (Those of you who have ridden with Tom will understand when I say, “slower is not always better”) Anyway, Tom looked at me with that mix of disgust and curiosity that all you rule-followers have when you look down your noses at us loud-life-livers, and asked the question, “How fast were you going?”

Since he is a good friend, I decided to let him in on a little secret – I’m always going the same speed.  I’m not the problem here.  I’m always going 82 mph.  The problem is the speed limit changes. 

It wasn’t until later when Tom made a joke about it on Facebook® that I thought more about it.  I’m always going 82 mph and that’s only ok when the speed limit is 75 (everyone knows you get 7 over).  I live life at 82 mph.  If the speed limit of life changes, I just keep going and hope I don’t run over anyone or get caught.  But the problem is I do run over people.  Not in my car, but with my life.  I pass you in the slow lane when you’re processing the question I just asked and go right on to the next one.  I’m going so fast when we pass in the hallway that I don’t even notice that you’re sad, or overwhelmed or stressed.  I interrupt you when you don’t go fast enough and tune you out when you go on too long.  I almost wish life had State Troopers that would pull you over and say, “Hey, don’t do that!  Here’s your warning; do it again and you’re going to get in big trouble.”

I honestly don’t know if I can slow down, but I’ve decided to make it a goal to at least know what the speed limit is.  In the meantime, feel free to “turn on your blue lights” and pull me over if you see me speeding by.  Of course, you have to catch me first!