25 means 25—Even for This Car Enthusiast
08.07.11
Recently, I was driving home from a meeting with my windows down and my sunroof open, enjoying the warm air. I was driving down a pretty steep hill in Manayunk—go figure—when I heard two people scream at me and my little steel blue car.
“Slooooooow down!” a little kid screamed from the curb.
“Slow the [expletive] down you [expletive] little [expletive]!” his mother screamed.
The kid then threw a rock at my car, hitting its rear quarter panel.
I don’t think the child was reprimanded; I let it roll off my back.
I wasn’t speeding down the hill; rather, I was compression braking in first gear. The revs were up, my car sounded like it was going fast (with its newly-installed, sweet-sounding exhaust), but I was actually driving well under the posted 25 mph speed limit—and getting infinite gas mileage to boot.
It’s OK, though. I understand that people get crazy about drivers speeding through their neighborhoods (even though I wasn’t speeding, and now my car has a ding on it). As well they should. I know I do. Nothing is more dangerous or infuriating than a driver barreling down a small, narrow residential street.
Source: Patch.com
