Happiness

The secret to happiness is to drive at the speed limit.

It's probably not the secret to happiness for the rich bastard behind me in the Maserati who would prefer to blow my doors in and leave me staring up his tailpipe, but it suits me just fine to cruise along at 100. 

I have a funny relationship with speed limits.  In town I don't speed at all.  I'm actually quite paranoid about the idea of hitting a pedestrian, so if there are people or even footpaths anywhere nearby I'm very law-abiding.  If the sign says 60, that's what I'll do.  I'll even slow down to 50 or 40 if told to.  I go 70 in the 70 zones and 80 in the 80 zones.  But once the number in the big red circle says 100, I'm off!  Peeeeow!

I'm not a rev-head.  I don't drag people off at the lights or do that stupid thing where you weave through traffic just to get to the next red light 5 seconds earlier.  But for some reason, 100 km/h on the open road seems a bit too slow.  So normally I'll go ever so slightly faster. (For you non-law-enforcement-types, about 115 or so.)

Of course, that mean that you catch up to the slow-coaches and sometimes get cranky with them.  I'm a cautious overtaker so I don't do anything rash, but it means that I get frustrated when I'm stuck behind a bus or a truck or a senior citizen or a learner or ... anything but a Maserati really.  Because I have a tendency to leave at the last possible moment it usually means that I have to rush to get there a little bit late so typically I arrive at B feeling tense and on edge.

So yesterday I conducted a bold experiment.  I left half an hour earlier than usual and stuck to the speed limit all the way.  I got there with ten minutes to spare and tooled around for a while looking for a park, but of course there was nothing.  Normally this would have me cursing and sulking but I felt great equanimity and was at peace with the cosmos.  That made it much easier to get through three hours straight of a lecture from a guy who walks around with his hands down the back of his pants.

On the way home I stuck to the speed limit again, and I took it one step further.  I turned off the radio and drove in silence.  I felt like I was a tree - a true child of the universe, putting down deep roots in the forest and growing towards the light.  A tree driving a car.  On a journey from the past into the future.  Awesome!

I arrived home feeling ... not ebullient ... but full.  Full of a sense of knowing who I am and not being distracted by all the crap in the world.  Since then I've had a greatly decreased desire to issue scathing critiques, snide remarks, and sarcastic rejoinders.  So if it seems like I've had a personality transplant, maybe I have.  I am now a mighty gum tree, spreading its branches wide, and gently swaying from side to side.

Peace.