The neighborhood wants me to slow down. My dashboard would like more information.
The Riff. October 14, 2026
I was photographing a community in North Las Vegas when I noticed the speed-limit signs.
Fourteen point five miles per hour.
I drive a Prius. The speedometer gives me whole numbers. The neighborhood has issued an instruction more precise than the equipment I brought to obey it.
This seems like something they should discuss with Toyota.
And what happens at fourteen point seven five? Do I get a warning, or does somebody come out of the clubhouse with a calculator and a boot?
“Do you know how fast you were going?”
“Not to the degree you seem to require.”
I came there to take photographs. I hadn’t realized there would be a math portion.
