Jim raced down the expressway, as he often did after a draining day at the grind. He mentally gave the finger to his workplace, his daily prison, as he glared at it in his rearview mirror. No more paper to push, no more lines to color in, just him and the road. He flew around a wide bend, seemingly breaking not only the barrier of speed, but of time and space itself. He could feel his knuckles going white, his body pressed against the leather of his mean machine, his eyes almost bursting with pressure as he caught fire on the open road.
And then, lights.
Red and blue.
Jim made his way to the shoulder. He slowed his car, but not his heart. Adrenaline still coursed through his body, like red electricity. His beast of plastic wires and steel growled at him as he parked and turned off the engine. The officer approached the car.
“Sir, do you know why I stopped you?” Asked the man in blue.
“Of course, my speed.”
“Yes, sir. I would appreciate if you would go more than 20 MPH in a 55 MPH zone.”