Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, go, go.
The last couple of Sundays I have been out of my house just after 7. I’d love to tell you a great story about an adventure. Maybe, I met friends and we went fishing and talked about life and stuff. Well, besides the fact that this sounds like a sappy beer commercial, and I don’t like fishing, it’s not true. I could tell you that I had to be out early because I am training for the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro. That would be a lie too: the only way I will get there is if I buy a ticket.
No, the reason for my early ventures into the day was to partake in that chore I have mentioned in the past: food shopping (https://larrydbernstein.com/food-shopping-shopping-shopping/ & https://larrydbernstein.com/contribution-to-greatness/). As you can imagine, I had the roads nearly to myself on Sunday morning. Part of my trip (about 2 miles) to the supermarket includes a highway where the speed limit is 50. How could anyone expect me to go at that speed? I wanted to turn it up. You know what I mean. You have your favorite driving song on – “Running Down a Dream” by Tom Petty or “Radar Love” by Golden Earring or “Life is a Highway” by Tom Cochrane (or nearly anything by Bruce if you are like me) – and an empty road. Now, I ask you again, could I really go just 50 mph? No way!
When I was 23, I accompanied my aunt down to Charlotte, North Carolina. My aunt, who was in her 50s at the time, was going to Charlotte to attending a three-day racecar camp. Anyway, to quote Tom Cruise or Maverick in Top Gun, you could say my aunt felt, “the need, the need for speed.” As part of the camp, she got to drive around the track in a racecar at unbelievably high speeds. After the two days of training, she did one lap and got scared. It was too much speed.
Back to my shopping trip: When I got to Shop Rite – in record time, mind you – it came to my mind just how much of a rush I am always in. I am perpetually in “the need, the need for speed” mode. My odometer is always burning high whether I am zooming down an empty road, briskly walking up the block, or pushing my boys to “Hurry up! Let’s go!” I wondered, “Why am I always rushing?”
Not everything is an open road. Sometimes, I need to stop and smell the proverbial roses. The food will get to the shelf, the boys will get to school, but the moments I zip by will surely be gone.