Years ago I was in a car, a friend at the wheel. We were on the highway, and we were speeding, maybe 20 mph over the limit. It didn't seem overly fast to us, but a State cop pulled up alongside us, turned on his bullhorn, and said, "Slow down, Speed Racer". Cracked us up. My friend sheepishly slowed down and told us a story. Once, he'd been speeding through a residential neighborhood and his wife abruptly and uncharacteristically told him to slow down. Surprised, he did and two blocks later a kid ran into the road directly ahead of him. He said if he'd still been speeding he would have hit the child. He's never driven fast in residential neighborhoods since then.

Unfortunately while the story stuck with me, the lesson didn't. However, I was recently pulled over for speeding myself. I was on my way to drop off my niece's birthday present and as I left my house the thought popped into my head, "I should drive slower." That probably had something to do with the speed trap that had been around the corner from my house for the past week. Well, my "slower" wasn't slow enough, and I got caught in that speed trap. I apologized, told the officer I didn't know how fast I was going or what the speed limit was (true), and that I was distracted and late for a birthday party (true). The giant gift bag in the front seat bolstered my argument. The officer gave me a warning, and then he said, "I'm sure you saw all the people zooming by you while you were sitting here. I tell this to all the local people. I live here too. I want the streets safe for the kids. If you go slow, everybody goes slow."

Now I have become the annoying person I had spent my life cursing, that idiot ahead of me who's barely going over the speed limit. That sap who lets everyone in and slows down at crosswalks and leads a long line of irate drivers down winding single-lane roads. That jerk who, when I finally pass him, will roll up to the same red light as me, the one I just slammed on my brakes for. And you know what? All the stress I used to get from driving has gone, floated out of my car and into the one behind me. I can see it there, in the face of the nut behind me, white-knuckled at the wheel, racing toward who knows what.