Casual
WALSH, EDMUND
Casual NO, SPEED RACER! Like Tom Cruise, I have a need for speed. It's a primal instinct reawakened every time I get behind the wheel of a car. I may not have my Navy wings, but I pilot my compact...
...I knew I'd misheard...
...As the proceedings unfolded, a pattern emerged: Look contrite before the judge, say you're sorry, agree to go to traffic school, and get your fine reduced...
...I had to endure footage of accidents, ominous gravestones displaying the number of people killed in car wrecks every year, and exhortations to combat road rage by practicing "the simple process of forgiveness...
...Worst of all, the program's writers had worked hard to take the soul out of driving: They consistently referred to what one does behind the wheel as "the driving task...
...I'd go to court...
...At certain times, when the road just seems to open up before us, I tell myself: Brakes are for sissies...
...His response was mechanical: "Maybe if you were going a little slower...
...As I went, I grew increasingly indignant at the notion that my record would have "reckless" stamped on it, no doubt prompting my insurance agent to brutally jack up my rate...
...I confess, I'm not the same driver I used to be...
...When I arrived, I saw my officer and a gaggle of his colleagues, ready to throw the book at over a hundred probably innocent citizens like me...
...Echoes of great orators began to fill my mind...
...My piloting style is less Top Gun, more TWA...
...I began to relish the thought of winning over the judge through the sheer power of my argument...
...Big deal, right...
...Besides, maybe the officer wouldn't show up for the hearing and I'd get off...
...At least it didn't take long...
...Well, it turns out that driving at any speed over 80 mph is considered reckless driving in the (Stalinist) Commonwealth of Virginia—no matter the circumstances...
...What's 17 miles over the speed limit when you know you have the skill, not to mention the feel, the style—the artistry!—to pull it off...
...Several drivers had passed me a ways back, and no one had pulled them over...
...I had a case...
...Sometimes bad things happen to good dri-vers—but superior drivers fight back...
...Strangely enough, some people won't listen to reason—and they usually carry guns...
...As I was gliding through rural Virginia en route to Washington, Officer Killjoy himself clocked me at 83 miles an hour in a 65 zone...
...I realized I didn't need to stoop to all that...
...Some people tell me that's a good thing, but I can't quite see it their way...
...I drove the rest of the way to Washington at something between 55 and 65...
...Time only increased my resolve to see justice prevail...
...But my ego has suffered...
...As the trooper approached my window, I fleetingly considered excuses—ignorance, pregnant wife, late for my Senate confirmation hearing...
...I could satisfy the state all alone, in my own private Siberia...
...I put off this humiliation as long as I could...
...He dangled the traffic school option in front of me and, well, I leapt at it...
...Needless to say, the course abounded in traffic-school absurdities...
...Courthouses are sordid places...
...Common sense was on my side...
...I may not have my Navy wings, but I pilot my compact sedan the way Chuck Yeager rode the wild blue...
...With me, it's effortless—I'm one with my car, and we bond with the road in ways unknown to ordinary drivers...
...I wasn't some wanton road menace finally put in his place...
...I completed my course and sent the requisite proof to the court...
...Still, I dreaded the thought of sitting in a room with other "reckless" drivers while an "instructor" taught us the rules of the road...
...Open road, little traffic, clear night...
...After barely letting me get a word out, Officer Killjoy muttered what sounded like "reckless driving" and waddled back to his car...
...But old Killjoy couldn't seem to see it my way...
...It was preposterous...
...The judge was only interested in technicalities...
...When my turn finally came and I approached the bench, I realized my case was hopeless...
...Luckily, just in time, I found out about an outfit that offers the stipulated lessons over the Internet...
...Now my driving record is clean...
...But I held firm...
...There's just one class of killjoy that seems to think I need some help: state troopers...
...EDMUND WALSH...
...I tried to work with the officer...
...I politely pointed out that, given the facts on the ground, he might want to write the ticket for, say, 79...
...I was dumbfounded...
...One trooper recently got me where it hurts...
...Sure, people who ride with me sometimes grip the door handle or pump that phantom brake pedal on the passenger's side, but I know they secretly admire my driving...
Vol. 6 • January 2001 • No. 19
