Older Daughter and I decided to lunch at our favorite Indian buffet yesterday, and in eager but heedless anticipation I drove just a little too fast to get there. “42 in a 30, sir,” the friendly Paul Blart-ish cycle cop wearily observed, before asking why he shouldn’t give me a ticket. With nothing better to plead than the “Good Guy” defense, I acknowledged my inexcusable inadvertence and promised not to repeat it, and he actually relented – no ticket this time!
So he turned out to be the good guy. My co-pilot said later I should have begged for mercy on the grounds that she’d just received a speeding ticket last month near Metropolis IL, going a lot faster than her dad, so our family’d already met its seasonal quota of vehicular incident. Ha ha.
The serious takeaway is that we both need to watch our respective dashes, and remember that no destination – not even Woodlands – is worth the risk of inattention. The best things will keep. Slow anticipation makes the hakka noodles even more savory.
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