A Little Modern Day Tortoise and Hare Action

On Friday, I was around and about in Tallaght in Dublin. Tallaght has quite a modern centre and, when I was done with my thing, I found myself in my car on a nice long stretch of bright and sparkly dual carriageway which ran along the periphery of the modern bit. The sign said I was allowed to do 60 kilometres per hour so I resolved to do 60. In a major glitch in normality, there was not another single car in sight, even though it was the middle of the day.

So I did 60.

Did I say there was no other cars on the road? I told a lie. There was another car. One other car. A smallish black thing. I pulled up behind it. It was doing 25 kilometres per hour. I gave it a minute. I reckoned the guy was getting up to speed and, any moment now, would cruise up to the allowed 60 and on we would go. I was wrong, the guy was on 25 and was staying on 25. The road ahead of him was clear for as far as the eye could see.

At least he was in the inside lane. I pulled out to the overtaking lane and I overtook him, getting myself back up to my beloved, and permitted, 60.

As I accelerated past him, I couldn’t help but dart a look over. I was expecting an old geezer, wedged in second gear, trundling along. But no. This was a youngish guy, skinny and weedy-looking laid back in his seat, cool and relaxed. If somebody were to play him in a movie, I would have voted for Steve Buscemi. As I drew out in front, the road once more stretched out in front. I stayed in the outside land as I had a right turn up the road a ways. I mumbled a few derogatory thoughts about the dude receding in my rear view mirror. Idiot, slow-coach, some more colourful ones which I will spare you. He got smaller and smaller in the mirror and he dropped from my thoughts in direct proportion to that receding.

On I went, all alone, free as a bird. Then, up ahead, there was a traffic light. It was green. As I approached, it was still green. Then, just as I was almost up to it, it turned first amber and then red. I stopped, all alone at the lights.

My rear view mirror became that desert scene from Laurence of Arabia. You know the one, where Omar Sharif rides out from the horizon. In my mirror, a black dot appeared and then commenced to grow and grow. The dot became a smallish black car which came on and came on at an unaltering 20 kilometres per hour. It drew up, still in the inside lane. It kept coming and kept coming. It didn’t accelerate at all; it didn’t slow down at all. And, just at it arrived at the red light, at precisely 20 KPH, the light changed to green and the car rolled on through without changing pace one single iota.

And I was left sitting.

Now the little black car accelerated. It quickly brought it’s speed up to 60 KPH and left me in its wake.

That’s my story.

I feel there’s a lesson to be learned from this. Something about running around like a headless chicken. Something about how knowledge is power. I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure out what it is.

I’ll let you know when I do.