Never Met A Temptation I Didn't Like

In Trumbull CT, as you head toward Bridgeport, there is an entrance ramp onto Rt.8 which is down and straight from where you are. A wonderful slope and just the most enticing temptation for me (and who knows how many more) to stick that accelerator down so far it’s coming around for the second time. When you enter the highway, you’ve got to be going, oh, 120mph, maybe faster. Given a good car, a Crown Vic or may be a Lamborghetti, you could hit it at 120 easily and maybe just as easily at 150 or better. Now that’s the way to enter a highway.

When I was a teen, I had all sorts of temptations regarding the neighborhood girls, none of which included bedding them down. But there were neat things I could have done and didn’t. Small village, uncool parents, too big into church.

I found out *very reliably* that someone at the college said some off the wall things about some people, very untrue and damaging. I’m tempted to tell him I heard all about it, but he’s retired and has a bad heart. I’d probably kill him in the telling. Not sure just how bad that would be . . . but there would be questions. You know how it is.

On a cruise ship message board, a person does mean things and hides behind her anonymity. I found out who it is: real name, address and phone. I’m tempted to ask, “What does [zip code] mean?” just to let her know she’s not as invisible as she thinks.

But they’re temptations because we shouldn’t do them and I won’t. Yet.