I once walked ten miles on a terrifying super highway, cold grit blasting from the eighteen wheeled monsters, their horns scaring me silly.

Like being on the wagon, all the while avoiding friends, enduring family lectures, the exasperated looks answering requests for rides having little effect on my disease. Advice from well meaning friends to "Just don't speed" had me agreeing whole heartedly on the surface, but denying the existence of that speed tumor inside. I guess the only way I could learn was the hard way. The never ending punishment finally got through to my brain, and I started to settle down.

Years later, married and responsible, an occasional radar trap would snare me unawares and remind me of my proclivity for speed. A police car at the bottom of a deserted section of hill, waiting like a trapdoor spider, speed limit signs politically lowered to a crawling number, aimed their radar guns, greased and ready. The courts provided no justice, the judges always siding with their own, dismissing any and all rational arguments. The answer, of course, was to find happiness in driving safely, smoothly fitting in with the traffic, arriving when you get there with the same new looking car you started out with.