A heated commenting session was going on under Merlin's dodgeball league post so I thought I would blog about it instead.
See, Merlin informed us that our little jaunt down to South Carolina would take about "5 to 5 and a half hours if you take your time". Unfortunately, it took us a lot longer than that to get there with Knoxville traffic, the mountains and a stop at IHOP.
We've been giving Merlin a hard time about it, but it really wasn't all that bad. We just expected it to be considerably shorter.
The funny thing that I was going to comment about is that everyone firmly believes that I drive incredibly slow.
However, these same people also will only drive 9 mph over the speed limit because they don't want to get a speeding ticket.
That being said, most of the time I'll drive 70 mph(i.e. slow) on the interstate, but everyone else that calls me slow will drive 74 and consider themselves outlaws like George Castanza bootleggin' a movie.
Here's my point, the "you drive like my grandma" comments don't hold much water when you don't have the onions to drive 76 mph. And they especially don't hold water when most drives we make are 45 minutes and under. That's the difference of getting there quickly at 5 p.m. or laugh-out-loud slowly at 5:03. I also tend to make sure that my life is never so hectic that 3 extra three minutes is a big deal.
Sivart likes to think that on our Road Trip of Death a few years ago that I was practically driving Miss Daisy back from Pennsylvania with the cruise control set at 70. And going through the mountains of West Virginia his Xterra was churning at a nose-bleeding 4,000 rpm on those 6 percent grades at 2400 ft.
So I guess when we stopped for gas in eastern Kentucky, if I had told Sivart to drive not only would he have climbed through the window a la Bo Duke-style, but he would have driven a spine-tingling 4 mph faster.
The moral of the story is, I drive comfortably at 65-70.
The Bandits of the world? They drive 74 and Jerry Reed writes song about them.