On the road Bill D mentions, 55 always does seem like a reasonable speed. The road is mostly curves, with lanes coming and going. Yet people constantly pass on the right, swooping in and out of lanes, going, I swear, 90 mph. No enforcement at all, because it would be too dangerous to do so. I can't imagine why there aren't horrific multi-car fatalities every day.

I am scared by the general lawlessness of people sneering at speed limits. This is after all the law. Do these speeders steal from people- assault people -just because they can get away with it? If someone cuts in front of me, I feel like that is stealing, in a way. That's MY safe space. On fairly empty highways (other than the Beltway, above) I'll sometimes drive faster than the limit, but in residential areas I feel the limit is for the safety of cars entering the road and pedestrians, and I try to keep precicely to the speed limit for them. Couple of people I was connected to have been killed in the past year trying to cross residential roads where people regularly drive in the right lane at double the speed limit.

I seem to have an inate sense of the speed limit. When I'm driving at my own pace - not pushed by surrounding traffic, I look down at my speedometer and to my surprise, see that I'm driving preciscely at the limit. I feel safe at that speed. It's probably why I don't like getting rides with other people, even my elderly aunt.

Wherever I drive, whether on limited-access highways or streets with traffic lights, whatever speed I drive (usually somewhat above the limit where that's common) I'm always passed by the entire "pack". That is so much more tiring and dangerous than when everyone drives at the same speed. The few times I've been in a situation where everyone was going at the limit, I saw how easy it was - you just drive merrily along in your lane with no maneuvering with other cars. But when the pack constantly jostles to pass everybody else, there are constant interactions with dozens of other cars at 35 - 90 mph, and much more chance for something to happen.

I've enjoyed finding the alternate, older routes to the highways, either in town, or on longer trips going toward New York. I can relax, listen to and sing along with the radio, and my favorite pink dancing socks came from a little drugstore on Route 1.

Linda