You Know The Speed Limit On Broadway Is 35, Right?
I mean,... you know that, right? Here, sit down. We need to have a little talk. I know the weather's getting warmer, and the sun is out, and it makes you feel nice. But that doesn't mean you have to go and get all crazy.
See this little white sign here? Can you read what it says? Sound it out. Good job! Yes, that says "Speed Limit 35". Do you know what the number means? It's a means to remind you of how many miles per hour you should be driving. It goes with the little speedometer inside your dashboard. Oh, you don't look at that? You probably should start! See, people ages ago made up some rules for drivers. It was meant to try to keep people safe. So someone very smart many years ago did a ton of research and determined that the safest speed to drive down Broadway is 35 miles an hour or less.
Hear that last bit? Or LESS. Yeah, I know. 40 is what you normally start at, right? And then you see that souped up doulie passing you, and you get on up to 50, 55, don't cha. Yep. Every time. Just let me tell you, you're not the exception to the rule. The only exception to that rule would be maybe the emergency services.
I'm not saying you have to drive at 25 all the time. And I'm not even saying that 40 is that crazy. But what I am saying is you don't need to get to Mighty Melt that quickly. The sandwiches are still there. The spuds are still there. Trust me. It's okay. You can calm down a little bit and drive safely while also looking cool in your Focus.
In fact, I bet people will have more time to listen to the sick beats you're bumping at 700 decibels if you drive a little slower. Don't worry, blaring your stereo with all the windows down at every opportunity TOTALLY makes you look cool. Everyone is super jealous of your superior taste in music. Every girl you drive by has a little pang of jealousy, wishing, "Oh, if only he would take me out to Kehde's and let me buy him a rack of ribs...." Then she sheds one tear. A tear for you, the guy driving too fast on Broadway.
And the guys you drive by? They're filled with rage and jealousy that they don't have your stereo system. They feel insecure. They feel like less of a man because you play your music really, really, really, really loudly. All the accomplishments they've been proud of in their lives? It means nothing compared to your rattling doors. The doors that were gone in flash, driving past them on Broadway at 55 miles an hour. If only you would have slowed down, you could have inspired them. They could have seen the man they ought to be, their role model. The guy driving way too fast on Broadway.
Slow. Down. Jerkface.