The Power of Christ Compels You – To Get the F*$% Out of My Way!

Last night I was heading back from a quick post-workday trip to run some errands. This was somewhere around 5:15. Exciting stuff. I had to hit up the locksmith to get a copy of the laundry room key. And I desperately needed to pick up some toilet paper.

Like I said, action packed.

Anyway, keys and TP in hand, we headed back to my apartment in Ocean Park, taking the Colorado to Main St. route through south Santa Monica. This is the very northernmost part that goes in front of the city hall and the municipal courthouse. It was just around the start of rush hour.

We were waiting to turn left behind a half-dozen cars at the intersection of Main Street and Colorado Avenue. Right when the light turned green I heard what sounded like a little honk come from behind me. I glanced in the rearview and saw a little A3 back there. I wasn’t holding them up and, not having anywhere to go, I just proceeded through the intersection with the rest of the traffic.

I always closely match the speed limit through that part of Main Street, mostly because it sits right in front of the Department of Public Safety, which is the closest thing to a police station we have in the city, but also because there is one of those DIY radar guns sitting across from city hall. If one were to get pulled over, the I-didn’t-realize-how-fast-I-was-going excuse goes right out the window.

Apparently, that was not nearly speedy enough for the woman in the car to my rear. I normally don’t even like bumper stickers that close. Right as we started passing in front of RAND the honking restarts. I’m treated to the added bonus of flashing high beams. Like we’re on the autobahn and she’s going to pass me at twice my speed. The posted speed limit through here is 30 mph. I might have been going 3 mph slower than that.

At this point, I’m thrilled to let this woman pass me. I pull into the center turning lane (as if I were going to turn left into a driveway) and she zooms past me. Zoom zoom zoom. Around the corner and four-hundred feet away. All the way to the limit line at the next intersection. Where the light has turned red.

I pulled up next to her. She’d pulled the sun visor down and to the left to partially block her face. I tried my best to establish communication, but it was useless. She was not having it. I did get the opportunity to appreciate the nice crucifix she had dangling from her rear view mirror. It appeared to be made of wood and humble.

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