I don’t drive fast in parking lots because statistics reveal that more accidents happen while pulling out from a spot at the grocery store (or a few blocks from home) than anywhere else. It’s also where you might mow down a little old lady with her shopping cart or run over somebody’s toddler.
I do drive fast on the highway. My father drove race cars for a hobby so I have some of that gene. But I drive with my eyes wide open.
Today while driving slowly in the parking lot, someone honked his or her horn at me. It wasn’t just the gesture that irritated me. It was the palpable aggression coming at me that made me want to be aggressive back. “What the hell are you in such a hurry for?!” I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I tried to feel sorry for the person instead because s/he is headed for a heart attack.
Speed. Our culture is addicted to it. Everyone is moving too fast.
We all do it to varying degrees.
Today I got a scolding from the chiropractor for my poor posture when working at the computer. While this isn’t directly related to the issue of speed, it does reflect a failure to take the time to do things right. To sit right. To get up and stretch. And to not work myself until the point of backache and exhaustion.
Today I was a little more in touch with the here and now because speed is over-rated. In fact, it’s killing us.
Remember. In the story of the tortoise and the hare, the tortoise wins.