The main road to town is two-lane blacktop. A lettered county highway, twisty and turny. Mrs. HM is only on it for a couple of miles. On the good end, that's mostly straight, and passes in front of the prison. People (not Mrs. HM, of course) drive recklessly on that road. My best old ex-teaching buddy, Mabel, would attest to that, I'm sure. Heh, heh. Get it? An ex-teacher will atTEST! I crack myself up sometimes.
My own dear mother used to worry me when she drove that road, because her top speed was 45 mph. Not fast enough! Not for the folks who scream down that lettered highway. The actual speed limit is 55, which is quite reasonable.
Yesterday, on her way home, Mrs. HM was going
Anyhoo, there I was, going
So...I'm tooling along, not a care in the world, a fresh 44 oz Diet Coke at my side, when WHOOSH! A sedan blew past me going at least 90 mph! He came out of nowhere! I swear there was nothing behind me when I started past the rich houses.
Here's what puzzles me. Why does anybody need to go faster than
I can only assume it was somebody who really, really couldn't wait to get home with his 44 oz Diet Coke.