So I was driving to work yesterday/Monday. Since I had my timing chain replaced, I've slowed down while driving -- for the most part. But there was this van that got behind me, then changed to the lane to my left, then merged right in front of me. Like, "Why are you gettin' that motherfucking close to me, you fucking asshole?!" close. And I felt violated and attacked and as if my manhood was taken from me, and so I needed to take my manhood back. So I went to the lane to our left, floored the gas pedal, and cranked my car back onto our lane and right in front of him.
But I didn't. I did all of those things, but by the time I thought I was showing him up, he (and it had to be a he) moved one lane further to the right, and he was slowing down because he was getting onto the off ramp. When I saw that I kind of dusted him but he was not in a position to see that I did, I stepped on the brake. Hard.
I have had bouts of road rage like this before. Rode my car hard many, many times -- accelerated to close to 100, then cut off the son-of-a-bitch who cut me off and slammed on the brake. Afterwards, I always felt as though I may not have "succeeded" in showing who's boss, but I felt true to myself in taking back what was taken from me. But not this time. I'm not disappointed in myself. But I am still shaking -- not exactly over what happened to me, but over what I did in response. Yes, I've done this before. And yet I can't believe I did this, or allowed myself to do this.
I'm getting older. My uncle dying probably is weighing on me more than I am conscious of. But I feel this sense of shame now because of what I put my car through. It's getting older, and it's not as if I can afford to buy another one off the lot. And I know that you hurt the car when you suddenly accelerate and suddenly brake. And oh, by the way, I have new tires on it. There's a breaking-in period of about 1,000 miles where you should go easy on them, and I sure as hell didn't yesterday morning. Now, if my car is ruined after this one rush of blood to the head, then this model needs to be recalled for being a piece of shit. But I can't let this happen again. And I certainly can't allow this hard driving because of my road rage contribute to a pattern that will ultimately kill my car.
I am under no illusion that I will do what I have pledged to do in this blog post. This prick (and by the way, the car that almost sideswiped me was a minivan from, I think, a company called Royal Transportation [there was a decal on this fucking vehicle], which I believe is a public assistance transportation company for those who cannot drive themselves, so I believe the driver was someone who was hastily trained in driving) could be riding my ass again this morning. I am not absolving this piece of shit for what he did to me; I have never had someone merge in front of me so closely. But that van's gone and I still have my car which I totally abused because this red mist descended in front of my eyes again. People suck at driving, but I have to walk the line because getting revenge means I destroy the vessel that gives me mobility in this world.
Still have this aching suspicion that I've hurt this car past some irreversible point just because of what happened, though. In the meantime, I think I will try and drive slowly -- and, Lord willing, let things go while I'm driving. Just don't know if I will.
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