The Speeders

It's raining out here and the speeders are riding my bumper!

Speeders never slow down no matter what the weather is doing. They're ridiculous. Despite the PA license plates, you can tell they're mostly transplanted New Yorkers. Though I grew up in New York, I never liked city living.

Watching the speeders today as I headed home, I imagined what they would look like arriving at their destination. They squeal into the parking lot, leaving tire marks and smoke in their wake (probably have to change those brake pads every two or three months). They jump out of their car and whether in sneakers or shoes, they sprint into some building pumping their arms like Flo-Jo.

And I guess once they're inside they do some jogging laps up and down the hallways, up and down the stairs in an attempt to work the crack out of their systems.

I worked on Wall Street for a little over four years. Before that I lived in Florida for five. Slower living in the south. When I relocated from Florida to New York to be nearer to my family, I was shell-shocked. The crowds there were too much. But the thing that stands out the most was the 8:45 a.m. crowds on any given week day. They were speeders on foot!

It was actually entertaining to watch them. We'd all be standing at a light waiting for it to change. And everybody's staring straight ahead at the light box that says "don't walk." Then bam! Once it changed people started jostling for positions and hustling in quicksteps across the street. Pavlov's dogs come to mind (hey, look it up and learn something new:). I don't have to tell you that I didn't try to keep up.

So what do you think? They probably have to work the crack out of their systems too once they make it to their desks. Do some push-ups maybe, leg lifts, karate kicks.

When I was in my twenties, I can definitely say I was a speeder. Not a speeder on foot, I drove too fast. I've since learned what 2300 pounds of steel can do to flesh and bones.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow