I Have Matured Now

Two race cars on I-70 are gaining on my red Lincoln. They are propelled with extra momentum as they fly past. Swishing around me as if I am sitting still. I am traveling 77 miles per hour. They must be doing at least a hundred each. I know I have matured because I do not get angry. I do not chase them down, determined to pass them I do not cuss or get angry. Instead, I admire their gumption Remembering how I used to drive, once upon a time.