Yes.  I will proudly say I’m that guy.
The one you curse
from behind your tinted glass fortress,
pounding your horn
like it’ll bend time.
Entitled, to say the least.
I drive the speed limit.
Maybe five over if I’m feeling adventurous.
And to you, that makes me the villain.
An inconvenience to your self-centered day.

But let’s talk about villains.

Burning rubber, you fly past me.
20 over, at least.
Who needs radar to read reckless?
Following so close behind me,
I can count your nose hairs in my rearview.
As if breathing down my neck
is going to make me risk my life,
for a head start
to your joyless destination.

Why is the world in such a rush?
To shave three minutes off a grocery run?
To get to…
Never mind.
I’ll finish my thought
when I meet you at the red light
you raced to first.

Considering yourself a safe driver
in total control over your vehicle.
Your attempt to justify says,
“I’ve never been in a car accident before.”
That doesn’t make you safe.
That makes you lucky.
Though, luck runs out.

Two million gone every year.
A soul erased every 30 seconds.
By someone who thought
just like you.
Hot pavement doesn’t bargain.

You’re not just “in a hurry.”
You’re the reason someone’s
child never came home.
You’re the vacant seat in the dining room,
the scream inside sirens,
the ghost behind statistics.

I won’t pretend I’m perfect.
I have been in accidents.
I have been lucky.
Blessed, if you will.
I’ve learned, adjusted.
That’s why I sit on high alert.
Hands steady, posture relaxed.
I don’t drive like a maniac
I’m not escaping my own impatience.
Better to be at peace than on edge.

No degree in rocket science required.
Just common sense.
Don’t drive like the road
owes you something.
It doesn’t.
It never has.

Privileges abused and safety at risk,
The speed limit is a life limit,
and your foot’s on the cord.