...but it does.

Since reading the book In Praise of Slowness, I've been more or less religious about driving the speed limit. Call it a spiritual discipline. Every time the speedometer creeps up, it reminds me to breathe deeply and center and slow down. Truth be told, I'm not a great driver. I've hit three cars over the years, usually at stoplights. All minor, though expensive. But I've never been pulled over for speeding. Driving the speed limit is one safe and sane thing I can do.

The speed limit on the county parkway is 50. I rarely top 55 on it, although I did today while passing several cars' worth of slow traffic. Naturally, I got tailgated. I even bumped my brake lights in protest, but Huffy McLeadfoot would not be deterred, continuing to bear down on me. Clearly she is The Most Important Person in the Universe.

Having passed the slower traffic, I dutifully changed lanes, and she zoomed past me. I don't know why she was driving so fast. Perhaps she wanted to pass as many people as possible so as to show off her yellow Support the Troops bumper sticker. Really, it's a public service on her part.

Unfortunately, the police officer at the top of the hill didn't see it that way.

Oh, I am chortling about it even now.