Cart rage in aisle three

I typically ambulate at a fairly good pace as far as plain old walking is concerned. The highly scientific and precise measurement as performed on a cheap home-gym dreadmill says I walk at 3.6 MPH, which, from what I can tell, is a bit faster than average.

I don't particularly care for walking. I avoid walking for transportation for all but the closest of destinations. If it's more than a few blocks and it's at all possible to ride a bike, I'll take the bike. Until such time as it becomes socially acceptable to ride one's bicycle through the aisles of the supermarket, that's at least one place I'll be forced to use my own two feet.

Despite my relatively quick gait, I actually had a lady behind me on my way out of the store this evening muttering "Come on. Move!" just loud enough for me to hear.

Related: I happened across a minivan with the license plate "KEWLGMA" that, according to another highly scientific instrument bolted to my handlebars, was incapable of exceeding 20 MPH in a 45 MPH zone. She was certainly a grandma. No, I didn't pass her. I drafted that thing! Thanks for the pull, granny. Perhaps that's how she earned the "kewl" label. I know she didn't earn it by holding up traffic.

* Title roughly based on a facebook comment from Bill Burns.

Random Tunage:
First State ft. Sarah Howells - Reverie
Alpha 9 - Come Home