That's age and empathy. I'm just like you and I annoy my wife constantly by studiously going the speed limit in residential neighborhoods with wide streets that would easily support safe driving at higher speeds. To my delight, my daughters seem to appreciate my caution.
There was a comedian once who had a bit about driving. He said that there ought to be a national speed limit that was tied to your age: you should never be allowed to exceed that limit as a youngster and never be allowed to go below it as an old fogey.
As a bike-commuter, I'm even more cautious. I see lots of my fellow bicyclists weaving in and out of traffic and even cutting off cars when they feel they have the right-of-way, somehow confident that their own skill and the fact that they have the law on their side will protect them from these massive steel machines and their cellphone-distracted pilots. Madness.
Quick story: In the early 90s I used to do tabletop wargaming at the house of this really young guy who had taught himself programming. He was only 20 or so, and a college drop-out, but he had managed to get a job at a local start-up company as a coder. The company paid for shit, but they tossed company stock equity around in lieu of actual salary and raises and whatnot. Eventually, the company achieved a reasonable level of success and this kid became a paper millionaire while having practically no actual money.
One day, this kid decides that his ancient, dying Jetta was going to have to be replaced. So he decided that he wanted a Jaguar. And not just any Jag, but a 10-cylinder monster of a car. He would sell some stock and buy it with cash. One issue with that idea was that he couldn't get any insurance on the car - he didn't make enough money (salary-wise) to convince any insurance company that he could actually pay his premiums. So he actually had to sell MORE stock and place the funds in a trust that was guaranteed to be used to pay his insurance money.
It was a beautiful car - a nice deep green with a hood roughly the size of Vermont. When it was idling you couldn't actually hear the engine, but you could still feel it rumbling through the ground.
But in the end he was still a 20-year-old nerd with a deep desire to impress girls. The cops pulled him over at 3 AM doing 130 mph on Rt 28, which at that time was still a highway with a bunch of stoplights. They impounded the Jag, took his license for a couple years and as part of his plea agreement he had to sell the car. And about a month later, AoL's stock tanked for that final dive. I think he moved to California; I should look him up sometime.