Speeding metal things

I have some to say about these. Firstly, I think these are dangerous. Doesn't matter how you look at it. Who thought metal flying around at ridiculous speeds was a good thing? Now, the description 'Speeding metal things' can apply to a variety of objects. Like bullets. But in this episode, I am referring to automobiles. My thoughts and past encounters with them, in order.

Speeding is an interesting thing. The law says you can't go faster than this, but everybody does it anyway. I was passively against speeding before I started driving. Passively meaning, I don't think I would speed, but the next guy can do what he wants. I understood, and understand, that speeding doesn't actually get you places that much faster. And if you need to speed to get somewhere on time, well, better late than never, right? This is all great theory, and I still agree with most of it. But once I started driving, I definitely started speeding. Sometimes. When someone was right on my tail, I felt like it was rude to not go faster, and though I was relieved when someone in front of me did the speed limit so I had to too, when no one was around I still sped. I still think speeding is kind of stupid. Anyway, one of the times I was behind a speed limit car, being thankful, I had a thought. I guess it was from God, perhaps. Sometimes it is hard to distinguish which are from me or not. Looking back, none of them are clearly labeled. But I'd like to think it was from God.

The thought was that breaking the law or not shouldn't rely on what others around me are doing. If someone behind me wanted to go faster, I sped up. I didn't speed when there was a slow car in front of me, but that was it. My ability to follow the rules or not depends on me, doesn't it? Why did I let other people's actions decide what I do? So I slowed down. At the time it was voluntary, but now my hand has been forced.

On Saturday, I was driving to pick up Steph from work. So, I rounded a corner, and there was something in the road. It was a log. I almost dodged it. It went flying off the road to the right, and I pulled over. Hit the rim pretty nicely. Changed the tire. A guy pulled over to help me. Nice guy. Got it all changed, and off I go. Except poor Maggie wants to go right, all the time. Log did more damage than I thought. Sunday afternoon I got my mechanic(and only) roommate to look at it/drive it. He deems it dangerous. I went to a place to get it fixed, but they sent me to another place that I don't know the location of. It's really sketch driving in snow now. I drive really slow.

Tonight, My fiancee was in a car crash. She was going slowly, but the road was super icy and the car spun around. It's hard not to press on the brakes. They make you stop most of the time. The car hit a telephone pole on the other side of the road. Her and her sister were okay, but shaken up. When I got to the hospital, they made me wait. and wait. and wait. I was so mad. But I finally got to see her. Crashing shakes a person up a bit. The car is toast. They are okay though, and that's what matters. That's all that matters.

I heard I sermon once, or maybe it was just an announcement, or just maybe I was daydreaming in church (oops), but the thought stuck on how dangerous cars really are. It's a passive belief, and any hope it has of growing is squelched by my forced reliance on them. I don't live ten minutes walking from town anymore with a fancy bus service.

I don't like cars.