The Absence Of Speed

John Smith rocketed down the busy highway. The wind rushed by him, but in a moment of enthusiasm, he thought about things, and found his enthusiasm wanting.

He told his wife, Jane, this. "Why not slow down?" she suggested.

Slowing down to the legal limit, John found his mileage rising. But he found little difference otherwise.

He thought about this. Over his next several trips, he continued limiting himself to the speed limit; but he found his happiness scarcely greater. So, when opportunity arose, he decided to take the scenic route.

First he drove along residential streets. It was slower, and prettier, certainly; but he thought there were far too many cars for full satisfaction. John considered driving along rural roads, instead, but he thought the better of it. He had only a compact - not an SUV! Nothing fit to drive on rutted trails.

Instead, he stopped at a bicycle store, renting one for the day. He biked along, feeling quite happy in the sun and green rural land. He was getting exercise and seeing quite pleasant sights; but, time after time, he saw strange and curious things by the side of the road, which he was moving too fast to see. He slowed down; then began walking his bike, looking at all the diversions. Bugs! Plants! Shiny foil! He was fascinated by it all, and, in a moment of decision, locked his rented bike up and continued to walk towards his destination.

For a time, this, too, contented John. Observing the world around him - truly, without distractions to bring him back to himself or speed to steal time away from him, John was enraptured. He looked - there, a butterfly! The bright colours on its back, the seemingly random, but truly purposeful manner in which it fluttered, related to all the other infinitely varied things around him...

John slowed further and further, ever more intent on studying what lay around him. Then he stopped; planning to move on, when he'd fully explored the depths of his surroundings. Standing stock still, he stared, watching every minute change. Days passed, the sun flashing by; months, the moon moving light to dark, dark to light. Moss grew on John's feet; and he watched that, too.

Then a passer-by approached John; the first to use his path in all the time he'd been there. "Sir," he inquired, "How long do you intend to stay here?"

"Until I've seen all there is here to see," John said, speaking quite slowly. Only his lips moved; he was far too intent on observing to take any action."

The passer-by thought. "Hmm," he said. "Er." "You- no." Then, coming to some conclusion, he informed John, "You do realize that you can get this exact feeling from drugs, without abandoning your family indefinitely?"

"Oh!" John exclaimed. "Not the drug thing," he said to the passer-by as he stirred, "the abandonment thing. Must go." He paused. "I was going to make supper for her. Do you think she minds?"

"Go home," the passer-by advised. "I think other aspects of your disappearance concern her somewhat more."

John Smith nodded quickly and jogged to his bicycle. Unlocking it, he biked to his car, then drove to a highway, and home.

"Moderation in all things," he considered as the garage door opened creakily.

Then he found his wife in bed with the neighbor!

But that's another story.