Back to the Future

I can’t drive 55. Well, actually, I can, but only just — on the flats. Downhill, a wobbly 65 is possible. Uphill, all bets are off. I often imagine Sammy Hagar — his knee pads on under his jumpsuit — protesting the speed limit atop Judge Julius Hangman’s bench whenever I’m crawling along the highway annoying others.

I also acknowledge that, today, my of…