Hello. My name is M. E. Cribbs and I have a problem. I am addicted to speed.
I yearn for things that reach incredible speeds which I can control. Cars are my obvious weakness. I am also tempted by motorcycles, boats, and internal-combustion and propulsion systems of any kind. I have a habit of driving using the point-and-shoot method, in which, one focuses on a point far ahead and then makes the necessary strides to get to that point as quickly as possible. Once there, I begin the process all over again. I know that I have this problem because I have done self-examination and spotted the signs.
Large empty expanses of pavement are open invitations to let out the taps and allow my engine’s pistons to churn out screams like you wouldn’t believe. I am unable to determine if they are cries for mercy or wails of excitement like riders on a roller coaster. Either way, I am constantly causing my engine to make this sound.
It seems as if the linkage between my ankle and my foot isn’t comfortable until it is at a certain angle. Most of the time, that angle is dangerously close to what could be perceived as speeding to anyone who is not well-versed in driver podiatry. I find that most traffic officers are not.
I have patience with those who choose to do the legal limit. After all, it is their right and they are obeying the law. On the other hand, I have little tolerance when they will not take advantage of spaces in traffic or adjust their speed for me to safely go around them. I grow weary of slowing my pace for merging traffic — if you are getting on the freeway understand we don’t have time for you to get it together. Many times in my daily commute I find myself aggravated by slow moving drivers who seem to obstruct traffic by their unhurried pace. I pass them and give them a frigid stare, only then to look down and find that it is not them who is at fault….I am driving 10 mph faster than everyone else!
I will watch racing of any kind: Formula One, NASCAR, Indycar, USAC, MotoGP. Heck, if you strap engines on the back of two turtles, I will cheer for one of them and watch with anticipation right down to the finish! The scientific terms that I once dreaded in school, I now use with fluency: gravity, inertia, spacial awareness, acceleration, momentum, velocity and the list goes on. I would probably seek out professional help if I thought it would help. You have to want help to be cured of something. I don’t know if I want to be better. Speed is addictive, stimulating, exciting and satisfying. There is also too much evidence that I am not the only one who is suffering from this illness. Entire football stadiums would be filled if we had to hold “Speed Addicts Anonymous” meetings. While those Football stadiums would be full, the stands at Race car venues would be empty.
Finally, let me redeem myself by saying that I am not an abuser of the gift of speed. I don’t brazenly fly around corners, nor do I weave through traffic like a madman. My speed is safely used and carefully observed. Who am I kidding? If it’s 2 a.m. and I am on an empty stretch of asphalt, I will probably floor it. There is also a possibility that my inner Emerson Fittipaldi will make the daily commute a little more interesting. I confess my fault here because when you are hooked on something, it’s always good to know you are not alone…….am I?
Are you addicted to speed? Leave a comment and let us know!
