But I seriously can’t drive 55.

Today’s drive went pretty well. I was speeding along in the upper-80’sMPH for most of the day. Near Gallup, NM I was coming in real hot when I saw a Sheriff on the other side of the freeway do some truly amazing Smokey & The Bandit spins in the grass median and come back my way. I knew I was caught and pulled over. I rolled down the port window and was surprised when I saw the sheriff go starboard. I rolled down the starboard window and he asked me what my hurry was. I played nice and admitted to going fast. He was a cool sheriff, so I regretted murmuring “cocksucking motherfucker” when he pulled up behind me. He told me I was going 87MPH and asked when the last time I was given a citation was. I told him at least 10 years and then we chatted for a bit. He handed me my license+registration+insurance back and told me not to go over 80MPH. It’s pretty heartening to meet a cool cop who by all accounts should have given me a ticket. As we were pulling off of the shoulder, he does his Smokey Spin through the median and gets someone heading east. This guy is serious about speeders. Godspeed, Sheriff.

I went 75MPH until the AZ border and sped back up for awhile. Then I started seeing all of these yellow signs with silhouettes of miniature elk on them. Because I had been driving so long and was developing cabin fever, I began to get super paranoid that I was going to smash into an elk. Promoting my anxiety, my phone was beeping at me that its battery was about to pass away. What would I do if I had an elk stuck in my driveshaft and couldn’t phone AAA? I relaxed a bit when I thought of an alternate solution. First, I would learn how to wrangle, and then second I would wrangle another elk and ride him or her 60 miles into Flagstaff.

This is an image illustrating what I would do in the worst case elk scenario. Only I would probably be in color.