Road Rage

I am totally one of those people that should not be allowed to drive myself around. I should have a driver. I should be allowed to lounge in the back seat where I’m allowed to be oblivious to anything having to do with getting me where I’m going.

I think I’m a fairly good driver. I signal when it’s called for, I don’t follow too closely, I don’t generally talk on my cell phone when I’m driving. However when these things are done by other drivers it sends me to a place I’m not sure anyone operating a vehicle should be allowed to go. When other people do not follow the “rules of the road” it makes me into a different person. I have been known to let some words slip out that my mother would backhand me for. In fast, occasionally sailors would be proud. There’s the occasional struggle not to perform a hand gesture – or at least to keep it below the dash board, just in case. And almost always the argument that proceeds as if the other driver can actually hear me or is willing to participate or might actually offer some sort of apology.

I have decided to try and make myself calm down while I’m driving. It can’t be good for me. I can feel my blood pressure rise. I can tell when my cheeks get flushed. I can go to the brink of a migraine with the eye roll that is sure to follow. So I’m going to relax. Or at least it started out that way.

As I’m driving on a stretch of the interstate that runs through the west side of the city connecting the north and the south sides. It was a nice evening so the windows were down, my hair was swirling around invading most of the car, I was singing to the radio, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. All was right with the world.

And then it happened.

On one stretch of road, there are three lanes. One that veers to the left, the middle and right lanes that veer to the right. This woman in her silver car whips suddenly from the far left lane to the far right lane, cutting me off. No signal, no warning, no look in the rearview mirror with a little wave and a sheepish grin that says “I know you hate my guts right now, but I really had to get over”. Nothing.

I was trying to keep myself under control. I kept repeating to myself “let it go. Relax. It’s no big deal.” I let out a deep breath. I went back to focusing on whatever was coming out of the radio and my duty to sing to the other drivers as I went about my way.

A few miles down the road, there is an area where for a very short distance, 2 lanes merge into one. For no real reason other than some engineers urge to screw up traffic and be annoying, the right lane ends briefly and then reappears. All traffic must merge left. It’s always been that way. There are signs posted. It’s not a secret.

As I am approaching this particular spot in the road, I notice that the silver car hasn’t exited yet and is just about a half-car’s length in front of me. Only now there’s an added issue…she’s talking on her cell phone. My stomach began to tighten a little. I knew where this was going. I was right. As the lanes merged, Ms. Silver Car jerked herself over in front of me, cutting me off, without signaling, while still talking on the phone. That is like the kiss of death.

I had tried so long on my journey to be good and stick to what I had set out to do. Really. I did. But out of nowhere it could just feel it coming up and before I even knew what happened my mouth opened and out it came…

“Donkeyhead!”