|I never let it get to 29. Amateur.|
It's oddly positioned, only 100 yards or so from a four-way stop and only another 100 yards from another stop sign, making it highly unlikely that anyone other than the most egregious leadfoot would ever register a dangerously high speed. But in another sense (that being the sense of my easily-distracted mind), it's perfectly positioned.
Ever since our town installed the sign two years or so ago, I've attempted to make the perfect pass: keeping the sign reading exactly 25 mph throughout the duration of my measured run. It's harder than it seems. To record the perfect trip, one must enter the recorded area at precisely the right speed, maintain that speed for several seconds, and then slightly accelerate at the very end in order to maintain 25 mph as the angle of the measurement changes.
I've probably attempted to record the perfect run over 1,000 times. I've been close, too close, dozens of times, usually failing by just a fraction, dropping to 24, or speeding up to 26 at just the wrong moment.
But last Friday, when I wasn't really concentrating, heading home at the end of the workday, I accelerated smoothly out of the four-way, then entered the zone at exactly 25. I kept it steady, then nudged the pace perfectly, recording the perfect pass for the first time ever. I celebrated by doing two laps of the roundabout that follows the next stop sign.
And then, on Sunday, I nailed it again. I'm a goddamn wizard.