Weeks ago, when the gas pumps were pushing their way toward the $4 mark, we all panicked. We griped, faced east and swore.

We fought back the only way we could, by driving less and being more responsible behind the wheel. Motorists slowed down in an effort to conserve their precious road blood. For that reason, the pocket-robbing prices were a blessing.

For the first time in recent memory, I actually enjoyed commuting to and from work because few drivers tried to kill me with their roadrunner tactics: speeding, dashing in and out of lanes, hogging the passing lane and so on. People actually seemed to realize that jackrabbit starts, stallion-at-the-canyon-rim stops and excessive speeds burned too much of their fuel.

That wasn't obvious to me until I drove beside a Chevrolet Suburban land yacht one morning on the way to work: It was in the right lane! Traveling at a uniform rate of speed! That speed was 55 mph! Most noticeably, all its windows were rolled down so the driver didn't have to spend money on air conditioning!

(I usually avoid using exclamation marks, but I placed all those in the preceding paragraph to show you how out of the ordinary that sight seemed to me. Often, drivers of large SUVs fly at autobahn-like speeds and keep the expansive interiors icy cool, caring little whether that drags the fuel economy down to single digits.)

I felt sorry for that driver. He had been laid low by the gas pump. Yes, for years we were greedy and bought big, wasteful trucks and SUVs, but some people actually need them for carrying a lot of kids or to pull boats or horses.

So, while regular unleaded was breaking our spirits and our pocketbooks, it also gave us a reason to use our heads, not our right feet, when we were behind the wheel. We combined trips, walked or biked, and drove more sensibly. Less demand, more supply, lower prices.

That was then; this is now.

As I write this, the fuel pumps near my house register $3.579. And, as I write this, drivers seem to be taking the low prices with the wrong frame of mind. They're forgotten recent history.

This morning on the way to work, everybody was speeding again. Troglodytes fresh from their caves were darting in and out of traffic, mostly in front of my bumper.

Few of them had their windows down; I did, but that was because the thermometer wasn't near the maximum yet and because I'm from the old school who learned that air conditioning is a luxury, not a necessity ("and you're just soft, boy, if you think you need it every day").

Now, commuting has returned to the chore it was before: a blend of the Bataan Death March and a ride on a roller coaster that hasn't been inspected since the Truman administration.

One certainty, though, is that all good things must come to an end; before we know it, the relatively low gas prices will shoot up again faster that we can say Danica Patrick.

In the meantime, the drivers all around my car seem to believe it makes sense to conserve $4 gas but to burn it like crazy when the price falls. Not me.

I'm not able to say this very often, but I've learned my lesson.

Reach Glynn Moore at (706) 823-3419 or glynn.moore@augustachronicle.com.