Evolution of a reckless driver

On a near weekly basis, commentary is offered to me regarding the manner in which I drive. Usually, this commentary runs along the lines of "You are insane." This is unfair. Yes, unsecured passengers can occasionally be found careening from one side of the car to the other on sharp turns. Yes, the speedometer is rarely measuring less than 70 mph. Yes, other cars eat my dust at stoplights. But let's be reasonable! I don't weave through traffic, I don't drive faster than I can see, and I keep my eyes on the road. Most of the time.

When I first started driving, my general feeling was that I was being given a license to kill and I refused to drive anywhere that might involve me having to deal with other cars, stoplights, and pedestrians. In other words, my parents and brothers drove me most places for a very long time. It wasn't until I turned 17 that I reluctantly began to undergo my father's precision driving training in earnest - after all, it's very uncool (and unfair) to have your mom drive you to college to early morning classes. I logged somewhere in the realm of 300 miles in the parking lot at the clinic where he worked in a Ford Ranger. Thrilling.

At the end of that training, I emerged a highly paranoid driver who rarely went closer than 2 miles below the posted speed limit. Accelerating from a stop felt like the car was stuck in hot tar. A stoplight ahead? Better slow down starting from 1/2 a mile away. Yes, I was a "Granny Driver." I never listened to the radio, for fear that it would distract me from the task of driving. Friends could look at my car, but not ride in it. I took pride in the excellent mileage I produced by my smooth starts and stops.

Then, medical school... I began to commute from Arlington to Fort Worth every single day. Driving 55 mph while everyone else was whizzing by at a comfortable 70 mph caused envy. My foot began to grow heavier. I was driving 65 mph. I was breaking the law, and it felt good. But things didn't stop there. I met D. Lang, a lanky fellow who I will need to delineate sometime. D. Lang made fun of my driving. He enjoyed sharp turns for the fun of it. I began to see the possibilities of what I could achieve in my car, and I have been traveling that road since. Thank God.