I Can't Drive 55

Before I even moved from Morocco, I started to worry.  It was only a matter of time.  I was used to the rulelessness.  Maybe that's inaccurate, because there were rules of the road, it's just that no one followed them.  And there really wasn't a downside to not following them.  In fact, if you did follow the rules, you sure as hell weren't going to get anywhere.

If you have ever driven with me, you know that I'm a firm believer that the rules of the road don't apply to me.  So speed limits?  What speed limits? Drive whatever speed you want on the highway, what's the big deal? That's what they do on the autobahn in Germany.  And guess what?  It works. Efficiently.  Cause Germany people.  It's not like I'm driving under the influence of anything.  Cause clearly THAT is wrong.  Even though I kinda was under the influence.  My drug?  Happiness.

You see, I'd just come from having lunch with my derby wife, Mama Beast.  Completely and totally high on happiness.  In fact, as I was driving, contemplating my fortune in having such amazing women in my life.  I mean Mama Beast gave birth to her daughter in the front seat of a Nissan Sentra.  How badass is that?  See where the name came from?

She just came out of roller derby retirement and she's planning a wedding to an amazing man.  Seeing someone I love so happy is so contagious.  So I got a contact high.  And started constructing a post on what my girlfriends mean to me in my head while I drove.  Which might be why I didn't realize that I was going 80 in a 65 mph zone.  Or that Happy song blaring on the radio.  Until I saw him.  And knew he clocked me.

That's when I realized, I had made it over a year and a half back in the states without a speeding ticket.  Do you know?  I was positive I would get one  the first week back.  Vegas odds were consistent with this.  So do you know what an achievement this is for me?   And for two measly points on my license?  But a perfect post lunch blitz of complete and utter gratefulness for the girlfriends in my life?  It's a steal!  A STEAL I tell you!  And you Mr. Cop, who I'm positive never, ever speeds and isn't a total and complete hypocrite?  You cannot steal my happiness by giving me a ticket!

And when I texted my Mama Beast this was her reply, "Ha, crazy Moroccan driver!  And…well…at least you stopped ;)

She knows me so well.  Since she is my derby wife, she shares my need for speed.

Maybe that's one of the many reasons I love her so much.