It’s odd how things in life seem to imitate each other. Or maybe it’s just perceived similarities that we read too much into. Or maybe I haven’t had enough coffee yet.

With all the hullabaloo over the end of the world rising gas prices, I’ve been making further changes to my life to help offset, if just a wee bit, the cost of my daily commute. I’m still not back to riding the bus, since being 40 miles away from my car would probably be a bad idea if The Wife™ decided it was game time and I needed to get to wherever she was and take her to the hospital. So for now, I’m still driving.

But starting last summer (and in a reinvigorated way now), I began to be more sensible. Out of my truck came the giant speakers, thus reducing my carload by about 200lbs. And I started going the speed limit, chillin’ in the right lane with all the other old people. The only difference is I don’t brake for Red Lobster.

Now, I was never one with a lead foot. Most of my high school friends were speed demons, but I suppose that’s a byproduct of being a hormone-addled 16 year old male. Or at least that’s what they told the cop when they got busted for DRAG RACING in a 35mph zone. Idiots.

So even though I’ve always been a “under eight over” kinda guy, I’ve cut it down to exactly the posted speed limit. And I’ve been surprised at how different things are.

No longer do you worry about jockeying for position, showing that a-hole who’s who or flying past that jerkface who just cut you off. Cruising in the right lane lets me see all of this go on around me (albeit with a few dirty looks for abiding by the law and making them late). It’s quite amusing, and makes me realize how stressed out it used to make me just trying to drive to work slightly faster and more aggressively.

The end result (beyond slightly better fuel efficiency) is an even more mellow me by the time I get downtown at 7am. It’s nice. I like it.

So while I can’t retaliate against some clown who wronged me by pulling in front of them, rolling down my back window and cranking up some obnoxiously loud bass, I have a few more minutes of time on my hands to think about how life here in Louisville, while not overly exciting, is a pretty good pace. I may yearn to go faster sometimes, but it never ends up being as exciting as I think it would be, so I should learn to be fine with just coasting along in the slow lane with the geriatric crowd.