I rarely get caught.

I speed to work every day (around 50 on regular city roads, 65 on the interstate where it's 55 in town), even though I rarely get there on time. I yell at other drivers. I flip them off. I make obscene gestures and (at the same time) sing along (many times at the top of my lungs) to the radio or whatever mix tape I've got in the deck. And I never wear my seatbelt.

I could give you some of the strange reasons why many others say they don't wear their seatbelt. But basically, I see this law as something pushed on us by the insurance companies (who, even though I pay them faithfully every 6 months, have never done anything for me). So I don't tell people it's uncomfortable or that it bothers me. I just don't wear it. I don't like to and it never really enters my mind to do it. If someone has an automatic seat belt, I let it belt me up. So maybe I'm just passive about the whole personal safety issue. But, if it is personal safety, can't I be a conscientious objector? Can't I acknowledge that I have given up my right as a seat-belted individual to save myself if (somehow) I roll my car or smash headlong into something that doesn't give with the same velocity my car crinkles up?

The short answer to this is no.

I got a seatbelt ticket a few years ago on a nice, warm Sunday afternoon I'd spent fifteen minutes picking up a few groceries from the store about a mile or so from my house. I was wearing about 3 articles of clothing--adding a seatbelt (if I'd even thought of it) was not in the plan.

Last week, on my way to work, I drove up to a situation. Or I thought it was a situation. There were cops walking all over the intersection, cop cars lined on the cross streets and I was looking for the big spread of glass or blood on the pavement. There wasn't one. This turned out to be a roadblock for seatbelts.

Apparently not wearing a seatbelt is just as important as DWI, because the cops are holding up rush hour traffic just to hand out tickets. I didn't realize this was the reason for the swarm of cops, but I figured it out when some overzealous man in black slapped the top of my car and bellowed, "I've got one!"

That's $68 right there. The fine is actually $25, but with the court costs (which you have to pay whether or not you go to court) it's $68. There should be a way to get around court costs...the fact that I don't want to overload the judicial system should save me some cash. But no, it doesn't matter. So in about a month, I'll send in that fine. But it won't make me wear a seatbelt.

The same day, on my way home, I was yelled at by a gaggle of high school girls crammed into a small, brown economy car for the traditional afternoon cruise.

I looked over, smiled and waved.

"You're a hot bitch!" one of them screamed (they were a couple of lanes over).

I thought for a second: hot bitch? Is this right? Am I someone's bitch? I'm the cop's bitch, aren't I?

"I'm a hot bitch?" I asked, trying to clarify whether this pronoun was correct for me since it didn't seem to be an insult and I am a guy.

"Yeah! You're a hot bitch!"

I laughed, said thanks, waved again and went on my merry way.

On Saturday night, I heard another guy (a guitarist for the band playing onstage) being called a "fine bitch." So it seems as though "bitch" has become one of those asexual nicknames. In a good way, even. Everything is cool, the language has merely evolved once again.

And so, as I drive, I'm confident in the feeling that I don't need to wear my seat belt. That there are some lessons I will never learn. And why? Because when you're a hot bitch, there's no need to play it safe.

Matt Worley has always been a hot bitch, but didn't until recently realize it was okay to admit this to the world.