A recent column in the Baltimore Sun grabbed my attention. Paula Beres, a mother and grandmother and a retired librarian, wrote about the people who use the highway — in her case I-95 — as a speedway – like, ‘I am going to weave in and out of traffic as fast as I can and maybe I’ll even race somebody who’s game.’

This isn’t something that’s just happening on I-95. Hell no. It’s everywhere. And, honestly, it fits right in with how people in our society don’t seem to care about anyone but themselves.

Says Paula (in a sarcastic tone that I so appreciate):

“You might be wondering why I am traveling on I-95, selfishly trying to share the road with you while you have your “fun” playing the dangerous and deadly game of “Indy 500” with the lives of drivers around you. You leave the fast lane, move to my right lane in one fell swoop, and then weave back over to the fast lane so you can once again be “the first and the fastest.” Sometimes I see you and a buddy racing each other. By the way, you might think you “got” the lane switch down but sometimes you don’t. I’ve slammed on the brakes often these past two years. You are not as good as you think you are.”

During the early days of the pandemic, the roads were largely abandoned. Is that what gave rise to these lawless speed demons? And now that traffic seems back to normal, they just have kept it up?

Paula goes on to say:

“I am begging you to learn a little bit about me before your next trip. I live in Baltimore, have three children, and I am also a grandmother to two beautiful little boys. Becoming a mother and grandmother has brought me so much joy — I cannot even begin to explain the feeling. One of my grandsons lives in Baltimore and the other lives in Alexandria. I travel I-95 once a week to visit and spend the night.

“In the back seat of my car is a cooler. Inside the cooler is a 9 by 13-inch pan of lasagna, cooked breakfast sausage, a dozen eggs, a bunch of bananas, a gallon of whole milk and a container of blackberries — all my grandson’s favorite foods, and foods they can’t keep enough of in the house.

“My suitcase is full of warm clothes this time of year because we try to take a walk together every day. Sometimes he sits in his wagon; other times in the stroller, and now that he started to walk, sometimes I just hold his tiny little hand.”

I think that’s what gets lost here. The people you drive with on the roadways all have lives, families, loved ones. They are breadwinners and people count on them. But because you don’t know them, and don’t take the time to think about this, you play highway roulette with unwilling participants.

Paula concludes with this:

“So there I am on I-95, driving the speed limit in one of the right hand lanes. I am a good driver, keeping my distance from the car in front of me and looking for problem drivers like you on the road. I don’t look at my phone. I don’t do anything to distract me from getting from Baltimore to Alexandria and back again safely. Yet, there you are, on every trip.

I don’t know how to stop you, but I am now begging you: Please slow down. Please put your blinker on. Please stop taking chances with my life. I don’t want to die. I have too much to live for.”

Don’t we all, Paula, don’t we all.