Unbeknownst to me, I was radared driving 91 mph down a South Dakotan interstate. My music with open sunroof was abruptly halted by flashes of red and blue. I had no excuses. No retort and really no defense. “Do you know how fast you were going, sir?” No, Officer. But it seemed pretty fast, I admitted. There was no point even minimizing the situation as contrived ignorance could simply inflame the Officer. On the road of life, how I react to an event has huge consequences on what would later unfold.
“You were travelling 11 miles over the 80 limit. Exit the car and come with me, sir. And bring all your ID.” He proceeded to ask my height and weight. I responded in metric. Not because I was being difficult, but because I spent most of my life outside the US and have gotten used to measuring everything in meters and grams. He shook his head, converted the numbers and then asked for my zip code. I gave him a postal code that included letters. He couldn’t enter it into the computer. After a few more similar exchanges, I finally said, I’m sorry Officer, it’s a German car with foreign plates. The speedometer only says kilometers. I don’t even know how big a quart of milk is. I’m travelling home after a long trip and was just enjoying the weather. I was in full control of the vehicle along a stretch of open road and speed got the better part of me. I truly didn’t realize I was travelling that fast. The Officer took a long look at me and seeing how unassuming, cooperative and genuinely remorseful I was travelling at that speed across his stretch of the highway, he sighed and said, “I’m gonna do you a solid and give you a warning.” I found that humbling humility is a far more disarming way of resolving any issue. I am not stupid; I just accepted the fact that there are things I am not aware of and proceed from there.
After a friendly departure, I decided to slow down and take a side road into a very small town to see if they had a restaurant. The asphalt turned into a gravel road which turned into a dirt road. There seemed to be houses and structures with great stretches of space in between, but no Main Street. I pressed on and eventually asked the two people in another car who slowed to see my out-of-town plate. “You’re definitely not a local if you got lost this far in. It’s a small town of 260 people. There are no restaurants here. Your best bet is to take the next left and…” I’ve also discovered that stubbornness can be self-defeating. If in doubt, ask for directions (and instructions). It saves time and gas.
Side roads not taken, people not met and worlds unexplored. That, I conclude, is true ignorance.
I found a Native American restaurant. It was a respite and I ordered bison and walleye. How did a fish become a popular dish in the Midwest? I also met some of the nicest people on the planet who asked where I was from and what I was doing there. A quick bite turned into almost two hours of conversations and laughs with fellow patrons and waitstaff. I left and took another side road parallel to the interstate. A similar stop in another small town to fill up and have dinner. As the skies darkened, I checked into a motel. If I had continued at 91 mph all day, I would have gotten very far—alone. Sometimes, you get ahead farther by slowing down. It’s not the distance I go, but the progress I make.
Lying in bed with the TV remote in hand, I thought about the events of the day and wondered why I was in such a hurry to go anywhere! My original plan would have bypassed all the people and experiences that bring life and love to this land. Side roads not taken, people not met and worlds unexplored. That, I conclude, is true ignorance.
Raising a daughter was a task I took on without so much as a roadmap, much less turn-by-turn GPS. I know that within 17 or so years, I’ll need to arrival at those mountains that are fast approaching on the horizon. But I have no idea what lies between. I have no idea what skills I will need and what provisions I should bring. But my journey on this unassuming road of fatherhood will never be alone. This, I know for sure.
I’m glad I was pulled off the road. It’s not where I go. It’s all about how I go.
