A Quote by Jenson Button
I don't purposely speed, but I might go over by five or six miles an hour from time to time. It doesn't give me a buzz driving on normal roads, because I can't go fast enough. It's never going to be anything like an F1 car.
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I was involved in a serious accident driving in torrential rain at midnight in Cardiff. I was only doing five miles an hour, but because I couldn't see very well, I crossed a junction and collided with another car that was driving very fast. I ended up in hospital for six weeks with a shattered pelvis.
If you're traveling for five years or something like that, you're going somewhere. But five years are being used up, and you don't have to do anything. You just sit on the plane. That might make time go really fast.
Speeding is like drugs. It makes everything come at you fast, and when you go back to normal driving, safe driving, prudent driving, it seems boring. That's the danger of drugs. At first it's intoxicating, but then the rest of your life you're trying to find that very first time. It never is the same.
The last time I was pulled over was in 2005. I was going 55 in a 35 mile per hour zone - which I don't understand because you can barely even idle at 35 miles per hour. Anyway, I was ordered to go to traffic school. It was an 8-hour class and really painful.
Faster roads are not always safer roads - and virtually all societies, democratic or authoritarian, prefer safety over speed, even if many of their citizens enjoy fast driving.
A guy can do a stair-stepper for an hour or go out and run five miles, but there's a big difference between doing that and going out into the ring and being ready to go-go-go-go-go!
When we did eventually get to the party - me walking next to Dad's Volvo driving at five miles an hour - I had a horrible time. Everyone laughed at first but then more or less ignored me. In a mood of defiant stuffed oliveness I did have a dance by myself but things kept crashing to the floor around me. The host asked if I would sit down. I had a go at that but it was useless. In the end I was at the gate for about an hour before Dad arrived.
I think my career will end too early for me to go to Mars, though I might be involved in preparing the next generation to go. I'd love to explore Mars, but, ultimately, it's kind of a crappy planet. The thing is, Mars One people would never go outside without a spacesuit ever again. You're going to live in a tin can. Space stations are noisy; it's like living inside a computer with the fan on all the time. You're never going to smell grass or trees. It's just never going to be anything like Earth. You're never going to swim. You're giving up so much.
I shoot five or six times, go out and play defense and make sure everything is clicking. I'm like a transmission in a car. You can't see me, but I make the car go.
I won't go deep sea fishing. The first time I experienced it, I went salmon fishing. My problem is, before I even get to the fish, I have vomited. You have to go out five miles, and you are just throwing a line in and bringing them to the surface. And then you have to go back five miles, and all of a sudden the wind comes up, and it gets choppy.
If you sign someone with the speed but whose time is over, they will set up the car differently and badly. You are 80 percent of the time going through corners, and you set up the car differently compared to someone who comes and wants to go flat out.
Another thing that's fun for sociopath is speed, literal speed, going very fast in your car. Not that everybody who goes fast in their car is a sociopath, by any means, but anything that gives you a rush will lessen your sense of boredom.
Speed bumps, I was thinking, you know, you're driving along, everything's OK, and then there's a speed bump to go, 'Slow down.' Go over it real slowly, and you hit the pedal, and you keep going, and I just thought it was kind of a nice metaphor for life.
Unfortunately, the Best Lord had condemned both vehicles as unsafe and instead I now leased a Pack Jeep I called Hector. Equipped with dual engines, Hector worked during magic or tech. He didn't go very fast, especially during magic, but so far he hadn't stalled on me either. As long as our high-speed chases stayed under forty-five miles an hour, we would be all set.
Walking was not fast enough, so we ran. Running was not fast enough, so we galloped. Galloping was not fast enough, so we sailed. Sailing was not fast enough, so we rolled merrily along on long metal tracks. Long metal tracks were not fast enough, so we drove. Driving was not fast enough, so we flew. Flying isn't fast enough for us. We want to get there faster. Get where? Wherever we are not. But a human soul can only go as fast as a man can walk, they used to say. In that case, where are all the souls? Left behind.
Speed is relative. Does it feel fast going 70 miles per hour down an eight lane highway? No, probably not, but I bet it does if you are going down some single lane dirt road. It's the same in a race car. It depends on the track.
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