There’s a danger – one I keep being reminded of, acknowledging, repressing, being reminded of…. – in speed. For no better reason than accidents of neurobiology and perhaps early imprinting (I was there, but not as a particularly clued-up observer), I am quick.
And being quick can be a drug. And drugs play a trick – they blind you to your own blindness…
There’s a scene in a good airline thriller called “Mayday,” written by Thomas Block and Nelson DeMille. A fighter pilot who has made a boo-boo is shadowing a much slower – and crippled – supersonic jet liner. He’s frustrated, and guilty and impossibly low on fuel. And what he does haunts me – he climbs – climbs to the stratosphere, like Icarus. Drunk on speed.
Next time on elliptical Dwight Towers: on the frequent and inevitable (?) blindness of those In Power to tacit knowledge….