Ridding the World of Road Rage
I realized that white pistachios peaking out of their shells remind me of Pac-Man.
And I wondered … Just how much of my daily life is spent trying to exit Dropbox?
But front and center in my thoughts the past couple of days has been road rage.
Yes, the subject entered my mind while I was at the McDonalds drive-thru, taking inventory of our family’s late-night meal of two burgers, two orders of fries and one Southwest chicken salad.
With power outages heavy in the area, fast food restaurants were busier than usual.
Double ditto for gas stations.
And you know the routine: When there are lots of motorists on the road, motorists get a little cranky.
Let a driver pass you on the right side, take too long to pull into traffic – or Heaven forbid – cut you off, and it’s rage time.
The same nice person who would give up his spot in the grocery line or give a brother the shirt off his back takes a 360 character turn when he’s dissed on the road.
I’m talking change like the speed of light - a suddenly armored superhero, complete with razor-sharp tongue.
But it’s not just vocal displeasure that is displayed. Road rage includes shaking of the head to the negative and lots of horn blowing and hand gestures. Sometimes there’s even a threat, with promise to follow through.
I just don’t get it. What happens to a person when he is surrounded by a couple of tons of shiny, colorful steel? Does he or she become supernatural? Invincible?
And this condition is not respectful of prestige, value, make or model.
I don’t care if it’s Mustang Sally, Beetle Bailey or Chevy Chase, the rage gauge is the same.
I’m sorry. I just don’t get the concept. I wish the road rage disease could just be cured. If motorists could just be more forgiving of an occasional case of bad judgment or driving distraction, this heavy weight would be lifted from shoulders across the globe. There would be lower levels of roadside anxiety, not to mention far fewer four-letter words flying around the highway.
Superman would be proud.