The fast-paced nature of this world is getting out of control.  It is getting ridiculous.  Many are in such a hurry to get somewhere, and sometimes nowhere, so fast, that it beyond perplexes me.  When I can, I take the trip from Lakewood, Colorado to Boulder to help out an incredible farmer.  The drive is about an hour up heavily trafficked Wadsworth Boulevard.  A stoplight halts progress at almost every block, but it’s the observations that cause a shake of the head.

There’s vehicles lined in both the slow and fast line, and speeds aren’t reaching anything close to the speed limit, so there is no need to drive like Jeff Gordon, one would think.  However, that is not the case for the man behind me.  He’s flying in a monster delivery truck, and as I look into the rearview I see him driving with his elbows while texting. A stoplight is a half a block ahead, so I tap my brakes to try to awaken the attentive driver.  If does not work and I brace to get hit.  The man stops centimeters from my bumper, brakes smoking, and I see two nice middle fingers.  I guess it’s my fault for stopping at a red light, and give him a friendly wave.

A little ways ahead I see a Honda Civic in the rearview mirror.  Everyone knows that you have to go fast and be cool like in “Fast and the Furious” in one of those, and that you should probably spend a lot of money to make the exhaust sound as annoying as you can.  I’m in the fast lane and I can sense his move.  He’s going to punch it and try to get ahead of me before he gets to the Granny in the slow lane.  He takes a swig of his Monster Energy drink which must have given his right foot strength.  He narrowly missed the elderly woman and was inches in front of me as it got into the fast line, just in time to make it to the stoplight exactly 1.5 seconds before me.  Way to go, Turbo, Paul Walker would be proud. 

I was hoping this would be the last of the almost mishaps, but I wasn’t that lucky.  Off to the right is the mighty golden arches of McDonalds.  A mini-van ahead of me shoots a narrow gap to pull into the fast-food restaurant.  The man in the slow lane and I have to slam on our brakes that almost causes a pile-up car crash.  As she pulls in I see three kids in the back seat.  I give her the Mother of the Day award.  I’m not sure who would put their three kid’s lives in jeopardy to get into the drive thru lane a bit earlier, but this woman did.  I hope that dollar coffee tasted extra sweet this morning, for it almost cost her and her kids their lives.

I got to the farm and told Bob about the near misses.  “It’s crazy out there, Nels,” he said, “They’re all racing from stoplight to stoplight.  It doesn’t make much sense.”

I couldn’t agree more.  It just doesn’t make sense, so I work the day and head into the Rockies, far away from vehicles, traffics lights, and the noise, to take a break and step away from the chaos.  The lights up here are the stars, and the only noise is the running of the river.  I’ll take that, any day.