Here's some lead. Please apply liberally to your right foot.

I don't usually claim any affinity with Texans or their Texany ways, but being in Missouri has made me appreciate one thing about them: they don't drive like 80-year-old grandmothers whose 7 p.m. bedtime is fast approaching. Move it along, Missourians! I'm not getting any younger.

I've spent a fair amount of time behind the wheel this weekend, and it's been a definite learning experience. I spend a lot of time on Houston's freeways cursing the...creative maneuvers of other drivers (particularly those guys with pickups who feel free to cross medians whenever they're not getting their way), but I'm going to have to reconsider my attitude after the 300+ miles of frustration I've enjoyed this weekend.

As I mentioned earlier, I rented a Jeep Grand Cherokee for this school-visiting adventure, and while it's a very fine car, it's not particularly zippy. Since I've had it, however, I've outpaced a BMW Z-3, several Mustangs, and the entire fast lane between St. Louis and Columbia. Wake up and drive! You're slowing me down, bluehairs. I don't mean that you should all drive 100 miles an hour, but may I perhaps suggest something above 47 in the left lane? Perhaps something even approaching the speed limit? I realize that 60 is a very scary number, but if you try very hard, I'm sure you can reach it and even manage to avoid crashing into other drivers. Houstonians do it all the time, mostly while talking on cell phones and wrangling eight kids in their GIANT SUVs. So buck up, little driver. Or at least get the hell out of my way.