Going the Speed Limit

Had I not been going the speed limit yesterday, I'm almost certain that I wouldn't be alive to write this blog today. I was driving 100 km/hr on my trip down to Edmonton early yesterday morning; I had left at 5 am from Fort McMurray. It was a day carved out of a busy schedule to drive down to visit Dylan at the Glenrose Rehabilitation Hospital; I had not seen him in a month.

Earlier on the drive, the guy in front of me, way off in the distance, had his hazards on. It was still dark at that time so I wasn't sure what was happening. I slowed down to a crawl to go around him, as the fellow stood on the road right next to his truck door. In a flash and a bump, I had driven over the deer he had hit only moments before.

A little shaken, yet undamaged, I continued on as the sun began to rise in the east. My life flashed before my eyes a bit further down the highway. Someone had decided to try an illegal pass and emerged out of nowhere and swerved back into his lane just missing me by a few feet.

It happened so fast, I wasn't sure at first if it was real. Had I been going just a little bit faster, 105 km/hr or 110 km/hour like everyone else, he would have lost his opportunity to swerve into his lane in time. Instead, he would have hit me head on.

Leave a little earlier. Plan for a floating arrival time. Do whatever it takes, but SLOW DOWN. And THINK before you PASS. Is it safe? Is it really safe? Is it worth the risk?

I stared death in the face yesterday and he decided to blink. It certainly could have gone the other way and the Middle Age Bulge blog would have come to an unfortunate end.


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