Only When You're in a Hurry

We're living in the 21st century. A century full of technological advancements that boggle the mind. People from opposite ends of the world can talk over the internet instantly. We've visited the moon multiple times, and we're looking to visit Mars. Advancements in medicine have lengthened the average life expectancy by decades. That being said, I still manage to get behind someone on the road going 10 miles an hour. Motor vehicles have been around since the 20's, so it's not like driving is something new. It's not difficult either. You get in, start it, put it in gear, then stay under 100 mph and between the mailboxes while avoiding other traffic. It's just that simple. Yet, amazingly enough, there are still those who don't feel "comfortable" driving the speed limit. Here's a thought; if you don't feel comfortable going 40 in a 45, catch the bus. What strikes me as the greatest irony of all though is that you would think the longer you've been driving the faster you'd drive. Wrong. Why is it that a 16 year old can drive the speed limit after driving for 2 months, while the person who's been driving for 50 years needs to drive 30 on the highway? It's a beating, pure and simple. I reached boiling point this morning. I found myself driving to work with 10 minutes to spare. It takes roughly 2 minutes to make it from my house to my office. I have ample time to stop for breakfast, right? I pulled onto main street and made my way to the donut shop. It begins. I get behind two people (taking up both lanes) going 20 in a 45. I ignore this as best I can and roll into the drive through. 6 minutes later the Suburban in front of me finally receives every donut on the shelf and pulls out, only to stop a half car-length later, effectively blocking the drive through window. They're checking to make sure that they got all 34 dozen donut holes. My rage-O-meter begins to peg out. I finally make my order and hit the road, running very short on time. Then it happens. A Buick in one lane, the donut ravaging Suburban in the other, both driving 17 miles per hour. I start to see red, the few muscles I have begin to twitch, the vein in my forehead begins to throb, one hand slides to the horn, the other prepares to let fly with the bird of expression. It's 7:32, I'm officially late. I eye the turning lane, then the shoulder, contemplating a pass, then decide against it. Surely one of them must be turning soon....surely. Negative. Both drive all the way to my office and beyond. I pull in, collect myself, and open the door. Friends, neighbors, countrymen I emplore you, something must be done. There must be a way. Cars have governors to keep them from driving faster than 100 or so miles per hour, why not a low speed governor? Why not a shock collar that activates when you drop 10 miles below the speed limit? Ever watch the movie "Speed"? Come on people, if we pull together and stand united we can win the fight against the slowinization of America. Work with me here.