Yesterday, while driving through a residential area on my way to work, I came up behind a van that was traveling slowly, slightly under the speed limit. I wasn’t too perturbed and kept a respectful distance between my vehicle and the van. Soon thereafter, a large pickup truck roared up behind me and the driver must have found something interesting to read on my trunk, because he drove only a few feet behind it. I only had about half a block until the road morphed into a highway, so I puttered along and, at the highway, the van pulled into the right lane (still going quite slowly), I passed the van and turned in front of it, and the truck stayed in the left lane for a while, but eventually settled in behind me; this time at a polite distance.
When I took my exit, the pick-up truck followed: I reduced my speed because we were once again in a residential area. The truck pulled up until he was, once again, a few feet from my bumper. I pulled over, onto the wide shoulder, let the truck pass, and pulled back out behind it. The truck then slowed down to a crawl, as if daring me to pass. I maintained a respectful distance for several blocks, and the truck eventually turned left, and I continued straight. I was glad there hadn’t been a confrontation.
As I continued on my way, I tried to understand what could possibly be running through the truck driver’s mind: Was the driver incredibly impatient? Was I driving the same type of car as his sworn enemy? Was he just looking for a fight? I was preoccupied with the incident for a while, but soon forgot about it. Until I was on my way home…
On the way back home, on the same residential street where my trunk was first crowded by the pick-up truck, the orange car in front of me was tailgating, within a foot of the white car in front of it. The white car in front was being driven at close to the speed limit, but the orange car’s driver obviously wanted to travel much faster. The orange car’s driver continued to tailgate, honked several times, and eventually passed, almost colliding, head-on, with on-coming traffic.
After a few minutes, when my bloodstream’s adrenaline had decreased to a sane level, I put the incident behind me. Until I got stuck behind the a silver car turning left.
There were several opportunities for the driver of the silver car to turn; there were definitely several suitable breaks in the oncoming traffic flow, but the driver was obviously waiting for a gilded opportunity, which, I thought, may take several minutes. I couldn’t pass on the right: there was a constant flow of rush hour traffic, traveling quickly and efficiently. My blood pressure began to rise, my impatience ramped up, and I was about to yell something officious out my window…
…and then I remembered the pick-up truck and the orange car.
What exactly was my hurry? Why couldn’t I relax and wait patiently? Driving isn’t a task to be performed angrily. Surely, in due course, the traffic would cooperate with the dude in front of me. Perhaps he was a newish driver. Perhaps he wasn’t used to such high traffic volume. Perhaps he was simply exceedingly careful. Whatever the reason, it wouldn’t disappear with my anger. I imagined yelling and honking and, against his inclination, somehow convincing him to turn. And I further imagined this action causing an accident.
I calmed down; within thirty seconds there was a huge break in the traffic, the silver car in front turned left, and I was on my way. The rest of the trip home was fraught with minor inconveniences that I realized were inconsequential; they were things that happen and then dissipate into the cosmic ether.
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.
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db johnston
almost falling 