I ran into Speedy Gonzales in a small Mexican town just outside Tampico. In an attempt to escape the hot afternoon sun I’d ducked into a dingy little bar just off the main street. The first thing I could make out as my eyes adjusted to the lightless room was a fat mouse seated alone at a table. Although the years had not been kind, Speedy was still easily identifiable – it didn’t take long for me to scan my memory for recognisable mice (it was pretty much just him and Mickey.) I bought two beers and made my way over to his table. Speedy was quick to offer me a chair and very grateful for the beer. His voice sounded a lot different to the one used for the cartoon series; I’m under the impression that it had been digitally manipulated. Although Speedy didn’t say anything profound, he was absolutely delightful; a slightly drunken grin just never left his face. Once the beers were finished he ambled over the bar to buy another round. “And they still call you Speedy,” I said jokingly, as he waddled back to the table; “that’s a little misleading.”
“Not really my friend,” he smiled back. “It’s your interpretation of the word ‘speed’ that’s the issue. People always think fast paced, but things also travel at slow speeds.”
I thought about his comment for a moment. He was right: Road speed limit signs, the drug speed, and even the saying, ‘faster than a speeding bullet,’ were all somewhat inaccurate.
“Not really my friend,” he smiled back. “It’s your interpretation of the word ‘speed’ that’s the issue. People always think fast paced, but things also travel at slow speeds.”
I thought about his comment for a moment. He was right: Road speed limit signs, the drug speed, and even the saying, ‘faster than a speeding bullet,’ were all somewhat inaccurate.