I’ve pondered this question before: Why is everyone in such a hurry all the time?

More and more it seems that there are no speed limits on local roadways. Interstate 70, in particular, seems more like a racetrack that a highway. Every day as I drive to and from the office, people pass me as if I am sitting still.

Make no mistake about it — I am not a slowpoke driver. In fact, I rely on cruise control to keep my speed down. I use it on the interstates as well as on Ohio 7, where the speed limit is 50 mph going from Bridgeport into Martins Ferry. I even set my cruise control on Railroad Street in Barnesville to keep from vastly exceeding the 25 mph limit there.

But it doesn’t appear to matter if I am in the right lane or the left lane on I-70. Regardless of whether I am traveling at the speed limit or running with the majority of the traffic at a higher rate, it seems that every couple of minutes there is another vehicle running right up my tailpipe.

Many people follow so closely behind that I can’t see their grill or even their hood in my rearview mirror. That is dangerous at any speed, but even more so at 70 mph or faster.

Where are they all going? What is so great about their destination that they apparently needed to get there yesterday? What is so important that it is worth all of that risk every day?

I had an extremely close call one evening last week on my way home from work. Just as I was passing the Ohio Valley Mall and Ohio Valley Plaza on I-70, a pickup truck entered the westbound lanes from that ramp. It immediately sped up and shot across all three lanes of traffic.

I was traveling in the left lane at that point in time, and the truck simply ignored my little sedan and plowed over into my lane. I had no choice but to swerve left to avoid a collision.

I remained fairly calm, took my foot off the accelerator and tried to remain in control of my car. As I swerved onto the berm, though, I struck the shredded remains of a tractor-trailer tire. Those chunks of rubber combined with the pull of the roadside rumble strip made my car sort of fishtail, and it took a good bit of effort for me to regain control without striking the median wall.

And where was that truck headed in such a hurry that my life didn’t matter?

Not to a fire. Not to a hospital. No, it was just to the next exit up the road.

After it passed a half dozen or so vehicles, it slowed down, merged into the right lane and then exited at Ohio 9 into St. Clairsville. I actually caught up to it and made note of the license plate number, though I know that won’t really accomplish anything.

Fortunately, the only casualty of that encounter was a plastic guard on the passenger side of my car beneath the front bumper. It apparently got knocked off by the debris I struck.

I know that I am lucky, and I am grateful that nothing more serious occurred. But I also want to remind all of our readers to slow down and take the time to enjoy life a little bit. Driving at a high rate of speed for no particular reason could prove deadly.