What we dislike most in others is what is most prevalent in ourselves.
So they say.
With that, let’s talk about road rage.
What happens inside us when someone cuts us off?
If that idea is true, we would say they’re doing something to us that lives in us. They’re doing something that exposes us.
The first thing that comes to mind when somebody cuts me off is: how rude. How selfish.
I take it personally.
They don’t know who I am. It’s not personal. But it feels like they’re saying, “I’m more important than you. I don’t care about you. I don’t care if what I just did scared you or caused you to have an accident.”
It feels like they’re saying, “I disregard you. I don’t even consider you.”
And that can enrage a person.
You’re saying to another human being, somebody in your very own species, “I don’t care about you.”
To say it’s inconsiderate doesn’t quite capture it. What can come out is rage.
And yet I’ve seen other drivers get cut off and it rolls off them like water off a duck’s back.
It’s as if the thing didn’t even happen.
Or maybe they simply don’t take it personally.
They keep driving at a reasonable speed, continue on with their day, and let the person who is in such a hurry just go on.
So what does that say about me?
If it’s true that the things that enrage us most, the things that upset us most, the things we dislike or hate in others are traits that exist in us too, that’s a tough one to swallow.
I hate thinking that it’s true.
I hate admitting that it might be true.
But I’m afraid it might be.
Why do complete strangers bring out the worst in us sometimes?
I think it’s because nothing has been established.
Assuming I didn’t do anything to cause this person to treat me poorly, when it happens my reaction is, “How dare you?”
How dare you treat me badly when I’ve done nothing to you?
Again, we take things personally.
And I don’t think we give strangers the same benefit of the doubt that we give people we know.
We want to label people.
If a stranger treats you badly, well then they’re blank.
If a person you know treats you badly, you say, “Well, that’s so-and-so, and they’re blank.”
The other day I was part of some road rage myself.
Someone treated me badly and I had to let them know so.
They sped up as I tried to get into a lane. There were fists being shaken. The other driver wanted me to pull over and fight, I suppose.
Do grown people still do that?
One person gets angry. The next person gets angrier.
“I’m going to out-anger you.”
And my word, how much energy gets wasted on that anger.
I pity myself for allowing myself to get angry. For wasting a moment of my time over things like that.
So what kind of driver do I want to be?
I want to be the type of driver my father is.
He’s 88 years old. One ticket in his life. One accident in his life.
And neither was really his fault.
It’s remarkable.
And I think it comes down to patience.
Patience. Conscientiousness. Realizing that you’re in a vehicle that, at high rates of speed, can do extreme damage.
What kind of driver do I want to be, regardless of everyone else?
Like most things in my life, I want to be patient.
I want to be courteous.
I don’t want to be rushing.
I don’t want my neighbors and fellow citizens to go home after driving around me feeling stress, anxiety, fear, or loathing.
I don’t want to be a driver who brings out road rage in others.
I want to be recognized as someone who’s paying attention to the road.
Not using my phone.
Driving like I’m trying to get my driver’s license. Like I’m still trying to get out of the permit stage.
Doing all the right things because somebody is watching.
That’s the kind of driver I want to be.