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Living life in the fast lane

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There was a time when driving fast was my idea of a great time. With my first really big bonus on Wall Street, I leased a shiny black Porsche 911, and promptly collected three speeding tickets from the Southampton police for minor infractions. Having spent my school summers in the company of locals, I certainly understood how much joy it brought the Hamptons’ sleepy cops to pull over obnoxious City people in ridiculous cars that cost more than their annual salary. My third ticket was for doing 28 in a 25MPH school zone on a Sunday. I cut a deal with the town’s district attorney to sell the car and avoid a license suspension. If not for one of the…

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