Speed Limits

Getting slowed down after driving on the mainland for a few years takes a bit of practice. I’ve never been one to go much above the speed limit on purpose just because I don’t like the tension. This isn’t a goodie-two-shoes kind of choice. It’s a quality of life choice. By slowing down, I have found that I am able to slow down in many aspects of an otherwise harried existence.

On two lane highways, such a choice isn’t much of an issue. Folks can always pass me. On one lane roads, however, there develops a tension between my freedom to choose and another’s freedom to push. Driving on Windward Oahu or up the Kohala coast of the Big Island inevitably develops into the pushing scenario. I just put on the cruise control and do my best defensive driving when the kamikaze passes start. I find myself squelching a constant temptation to go much faster in order to detach my pursuer from the rear bumper. That illusion got dashed when I followed friends up the highway at a speed much over my usual (we were driving in tandem, and I didn’t want to lose them). Behind me clung a follower, at a high rate of speed. I realized then that it wouldn’t matter how fast I drove. For some it would never be fast enough. I might as well slow back down and relax.

My kids took the slowing down process pretty hard. Going from 75 on wide open highways on the mainland to 35 on curving islands roads felt like we’d just shifted into the low-walking gear range. My preteen son chewed up an entire backseat just getting adjusted.

My older brother is the one who taught me the value of chilling. I wonder if the insurance companies have him in the male driving statistics. As a young adult, I would ride with him and feel a sense of peace, no matter the traffic conditions. He just wasn’t going to let himself get in a rush. He would point out a car doing a gazillion lane changes in rush hour, and we would observe who made it there first. Each time, we all made it there together.

It’s not that I don’t get in a rush. It’s more like I make myself conscious of the rush, and rate it on a global-importance scale before I let it do the driving. If it’s a rushing kind of emergency, I can always hail one of those flashing light screaming vehicles and have the road cleared for my needs. Otherwise, I just flow.

The greatest challenge to the flow philosophy is when there is no flow: rush hour. I don’t have any mental miracle cure for that one. Some ideas include repetitions of the Serenity Prayer, purchasing a bicycle, or listening to meditation tapes. A good book isn’t a good idea, unless it’s on tape. I have filed my nails. But that has its inherent risks from using both hands for the activity and the necessity of looking away from the road.

I did get a speeding ticket once, by the way. I was driving a new-to-me Toyota Camry. Some really fine music was playing, the car was smooth, and the road was straight and wide. Just as I reached to turn down the favorite song, I saw the flashing red lights in my rear view mirror. I looked down to see that I had gone twenty over the limit without realizing it. I profusely apologized to the officer who had to write me the ticket for not monitoring myself. What a bummer of a duty. He looked at me with a good measure of distrust. “It’s the nice ones that fight you in court,” my police-wife friend later told me. Double bummer.

I love driving fast. The absolute best part of flying is the take off. It’s the only time I can go that fast on the ground without first training as a race-car driver. I just don’t want to let that love drive me. It’s probably a waste of a good car for me to get that Maserati I’ve been eyeing.