Driving behind a painfully slow car when there’s no way to pass feels a little torturous. At first, I wonder, “Are they lost?” Within seconds, those thoughts evolve into, “What the heck is the flippin’ delay here?” Before much longer, I’m demonstrating expressive hand gestures and turning red in the face. There’s no real need for the hurry, nonetheless it is unacceptable for that car to be traveling below the posted speed limit.
Up ahead, the traffic signal is green. Just when I think I might catch a break and make it through the green light, I blink. The light turns yellow. Just as I pass the slowpoke that’s been holding me back, the light turns red! In frustration, I run the red light feeling justified and a little self-righteous as the slow poke glides gently to a stop in my rear-view mirror. And then there were three! My heart stopped at the appearance of red and blue lights of the squad car.
“But officer,” I plead, “it’s not my fault! I would have made the green light if that car back there hadn’t been driving down the road so slowly.”
Looking back at the empty intersection, the “real criminal” has meandered slowly down the road and out of sight. I wasn’t even in a hurry.
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