Speedy Gonzales is dead. Or at least my inner Speedy Gonzales is.
His death was no accident, although the way I used to tear up and down the motorway one would think it had all ended horribly wrong with a head-on collision. Which of course it did, of sorts.
I am a very good driver – most passengers used to confirm this whether verbally or by simply not using the virtual foot brake that was installed for front seat passenger use. I didn’t always try to fill Speedy Gonzales’ driving shoes. I would say there was a time in my life when I was, for the most part, a responsible young driver. Driving a 3-speed ’65 Ford Mustang didn’t give me much of an option.
And then I moved to the UK… open roads and a 70mph speed limit that really was 80mph, so I viewed speeding as only taking place if I was driving over 90mph. Once I got used to driving on the right, I felt as free as a bird! I took a page out of its book (the bird’s book), and started flying. Flying down the motorway at top speed was so liberating and it made me feel invincible. The faster the better!
Or so I thought. Pondering the impact driving under such intense tension had on my body horrifies me now. The stress I put my body under took a huge toll on my health and wellbeing, let alone that of my fellow motorway drivers. And it was reflected back to me in the lengthy delays and horrendous, standstill traffic that I used to literally drive myself into.
I wasn’t an obviously rude driver who flipped other drivers off – I let my speed do that for me, leaving a trail of destructive superiority in my wake. The feeling it left me with was goooood – I was on top of the world! Until it wore off that is, which it didn’t get much of a chance to do as somehow the motorways had become a convenient friend and I found myself driving them on a regular basis. Funny that.
After my son was born I got my speeding more under control: keeping it under 90mph when he wasn’t with me in the car and closer to 70mph when he was – this was my way of weaning myself off the need for speed. I got to taste life in the slow lane and discovered that although it didn’t provide the adrenalin rush, it was also less exhausting.
My acceptance of the death of my inner Speedy Gonzales took place over time and for a while I raced his ghost. Initially, when not on the motorway, I found myself hovering above the speed limit just to where I thought I couldn’t be pulled over for speeding. Pushing my luck, y’ know? Like I hadn’t been already.
I started with the country roads and with choosing not to overtake the slowpoke ahead of me, knowing I could get my speed rush as soon as my spinning wheels hit the motorway. Driving the back roads, I got to feel what it was like to drive within range of the speed limit on a fairly regular basis. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. I had places to go! It didn’t help that for most of my life I left the house, work or wherever I was, late so there was always an underlying need for speed which conveniently kept me tearing up the roads and my pedal to the metal.
I changed jobs and the location of the new office gave me the option to take the motorway or the back roads. Much to my surprise I opted for the country roads most days and I found that these roads aren’t just made for speed, there’s scenery and beautiful skies to enjoy along the way when one isn’t gripped to the steering wheel for dear life and focused on the annoying driver in front. There were times too where I found myself actually being present as I sat in the driver’s seat, giving me the chance to lighten my grip on the steering wheel and surrender the tension in my body.
Gradually, as my driving was beginning to find a more harmonious flow on the back roads, it seemed to open up a bit of space for me to look at the pace I was choosing in other areas of my life – a ripple effect that I curiously began to notice and observe.
I found myself being able to get out of the house on time in the mornings on a fairly regular basis without much effort to do so and it seemed like no matter what time I ended up leaving, I was arriving on time or shock, horror – early even! I was beginning to find the pressure at work lifting a bit and becoming more manageable, and my days seemed to expand, as if lasting a little bit longer than before and they had a more spacious flow to them.
My world has changed considerably since the death of Speedy Gonzales and his ghost – the most amazing moment being when I felt to start taking the motorway to work again. The first few times I felt like a foreigner in a country I’d never set foot in with a stranger behind the wheel. It felt well… gorgeous. I felt gorgeous!
I found it impossible to take my vehicle above 70mph and I didn’t even feel the need to try. Instead of attacking the motorway with speed I simply continued to move and drive in the steady flow of my new alignment: doing so allows space for everything around me to constellate in such a way that in a year of choosing to drive the motorway again, not once have the roads been congested or the flow of traffic been anything but in alignment with my own.
Since becoming a student of Universal Medicine and the Ageless Wisdom, I have become much more aware of my movements and the impact they have not only on myself, but also on those around me. I chose to be oblivious to the effects my speeding had on my own wellbeing as well as those unsuspecting drivers travelling the roads with me, but now when I observe those Speedy Gonzales drivers tearing down the motorway I hold steady in knowing that was the energy I used to drive in: I get to feel this driving need for speed from a different perspective allowing me to feel and appreciate the effect one’s way of moving and driving has on others.
No judgement, no flashing blue lights, just appreciation.
By Brigette Evans, taking time to smell the roses having finally given Speedy Gonzales the boot.