My War on Road Ragers

Once upon a time, I declared war on road ragers. Yes, I, a self-proclaimed pacifist, officially declared war on those drivers who find joy in tailing others in residential neighborhoods, in shining their brights in rear view mirrors when they don't agree with someone else's driving style, in communicating their self-righteous wrath with what I like to endearingly call "finger language."

Now, let me preface this by assuring you that I do not drive ten miles under the speed limit, pass people without first turning on my blinker, or pull out in front of moving traffic and then slow down to twenty miles an hour. These truly are exasperating driving methods which could incite rage in even the most serene drivers. But I am not one of those exasperating drivers.

One pleasant summer day, while driving home from an invigorating run on the greenbelt, I noticed a scary, monstrous, gigantic, white pickup tailing me at less than the two-second distance I learned all about in my inspiring driver's ed classes.

I, being the alert driver that I am, noticed that the speed limit sign read "20 mph." I, also being a conscientious driver and always willing to help out my fellow driving buddies, pointed to the sign. I also made sure I drove that speed all the way up the hill through the neighborhood.

After turning onto a 35-mile per hour road, I noticed the person in the scary, monstrous pickup was still riding my bumper. I figured he needed to be called on his impolite behavior. So when he pulled into the left turn lane next to me at the traffic light, I mouthed through my car window, "JERK!" and gave him the most menacing "teacher look" I could muster.

He, in a fit of rage, hurled off a string of expletives through his open window which I, of course, couldn't hear because I refused to roll down my window. Then he started throwing little pebbles and dirt from the floor of his truck at my car.

I, once again being the astute driver that I am, gestured toward the left turn lane light in order to inform him that the light had long ago turned green, and he was the only one left in that lane. He threw another pebble at my window and peeled out, showing complete ingratitude toward my attempt to make him into a more courteous and considerate driver.

When I told my husband about my victorious battle in my war against road ragers, he was slightly concerned that if I declared war on too many road ragers, I might end up being chased or rear-ended. He also said, "How does calling him a 'jerk' make you any less of a road rager than him? What if one of your students saw you act that way to a fellow human being? Is that the kind of example you want to set for them?"

Uh oh. Then, an all-too familiar wave of guilt that often accompanies my impulsivity swept over me. My husband was right . . . again.

My war on road ragers was short-lived. But I started thinking that perhaps the way we drive reflects the attitudes and behaviors prevalent in our world. And wouldn't that be a sad commentary on our society?