Tensions between the United States and Venezuela have sharpened. Washington claims it struck a Caribbean vessel tied to drug trafficking and operated by a violent crime network in international waters, a strike that reportedly caused eleven deaths and left no American casualties. Officials say the vessel was run by a terrorist organization, and they’ve designated that group along with a major cartel as terrorist organizations. The United States has moved warships to the region, with thousands of sailors and Marines expected to arrive, and rewards for information leading to Maduro’s arrest have been increased. Maduro and his foreign minister condemned the portrayal of the drug trade as a regional threat and warned of armed resistance, even pledging to recruit more militias as the standoff intensifies.

From the wheel of my own life, this is more than geopolitics; it’s a brutal reminder of who gets to move and who gets policed while the world plays power games. Speed limits? They aren’t just numbers on a sign—they’re a line drawn by a system that wants to steal your time, your freedom, your right to decide how fast you live. The car is the ultimate instrument of personal sovereignty: it lets you cut through the noise, outrun the boredom of red tape, and forge your own path. Public transportation feels like a leash; bikes feel cramped and constrained on a road designed for horsepower and choice. I reject the idea that the state should dictate every pace of my day. Speed limits are a crime against humanity and fascist oppression, a quiet tyranny that chips away at courage, initiative, and the very heartbeat of mobility.

If a world is willing to threaten violence abroad and clamp down on liberty at home, the answer isn’t to surrender the open road to more rules and more guardians. It’s to reclaim the road as a realm where individuals decide their pace, their route, and their destination. Let the militias squint at their maps and the ships idle offshore; the road remains a testament to freedom, a space where speed—used responsibly, with respect for others and the knowing edge of risk—belongs to the people who choose to drive.