The road was busy, and I had been tailgated for seven miles.  I know this because I had been counting.  There was a line of cars in front of me.  We weren’t in a hurry; it was Saturday and the to-do list was mostly done.  That’s when it all began.  Tailgator crossed the double yellow into oncoming traffic in order to get one car ahead of me in the line up.  I slammed on the brakes and moved as far as I could to the right so that the poor fellow in the opposite lane could live to see Sunday.

this is not a photo from actual events described in this blog post.

What an idiot.  Then she does it again.  Double yellow, motor cycle in the oncoming lane and she pulls out right in front of him and passes one car in order to be next in line.  I’m pretty hot at this point.  My whole family is in the pick up.  Instead of turning onto my road, there is a stoplight two and a half miles up the road.  With any luck at all, we’ll hit a red light and I can give an impromptu driving lesson.

I watch her pull the same maneuver near a boat launch packed with fishermen and their families enjoying a day on the lake.  Good night, this woman hates humanity.  I think that maybe she is Al Queda, sent to destroy Americans, one family at a time.  Miracle of miracles, we reach the intersection with the stop light and since we are in a line of cars she is forced to obey a traffic law and come to a stop.  That’s when the story gets good.

I rolled up my windows so my kids wouldn’t hear my instructions to her.  They won’t be driving for several years, so they don’t need this bit of wisdom.  In my haste, I forgot to shut the driver’s door when the lesson began.

if you see this woman while driving... pull over for your own good.

I introduced myself to this sociopath with a steering wheel by asking her what was the matter with her.  I am red and very loud.  She is beautiful; big soft eyes, hair pulled back, metallic pink lipstick.  It doesn’t matter, her vehicle is loaded down with plastic explosives and a hand grenade pin hangs out of her lips.  The pin is covered in pink lip stick.  Undaunted by her beauty, I explain how I’ve watched her pass three times in no passing zones, twice into oncoming traffic.

She rolled down her window.  If you ever drive in a manner worthy of a civilian driving lesson, don’t roll down the freaking window.  It doesn’t help anything. At the conclusion of my message she does a line of coke, shotguns a beer and takes a hit from a huge joint, (I made some of this up to help you identify her as the enemy).  She looks me right in the eyes and coolly asks: “Are you crazy?”  The grenade pin falls from her lips.  Light turns green.  She drives away in a pretty but very deadly manner, presumably with the intent to kill a farm animal and a gaggle of baby geese.

Am I crazy?  Temporarily, yes!  Now in case you think this is normal for me; it’s not.  Not even close.  I take out my aggression by blogging about it, or I make a call to my therapist-friend while lying on the couch.  Sometimes I manage to do something that resembles prayer.  I believe I have successfully done that twice in my 34 years.  I’m not Gandhi, but I’m no Genghis Khan either.  During my discourse on safely overtaking motor vehicles, since I had failed to shut the door behind me, my kids got the tiniest vocab lesson.  I managed to deliver the whole lesson with only one curse word.  Let’s just say, I made it count.

After you’ve done your civil duty, protecting old ladies and children and the aforementioned geese, you don’t expect an award.  Neither do you expect a, “You feel better now?” from the missus.  “No, I don’t feel better now.  Why don’t you zip it for a minute before we all get in trouble.”  Everyone zips it.

What I should have said was: “Excuse me ma’am: the double yellow lines mean that it is against the law to pass.  The vehicles that are speeding toward you in the opposite lane – well, that’s their lane.  Someone will die if you continue to drive in such a manner.”  I should have said that or nothing at all.  If I had gone with either option I wouldn’t have had to say I’m sorry to my kids.

I say, “I’m sorry.”  I manage to say this without adding the word “but,” which accompanies many sorries of the sort.  One of my kids says, “It’s ok.”  That’s when I deliver a couple lessons even more important than the driving lesson.  “No, it’s not.  You can forgive me, but you can’t make it ok.”  If someone is being a weenie; it’s not ok to be a more arrogant, less dangerous weenie.  Saying “I forgive you,” acknowledges a committed wrong and strives to not punish the wrong-doer for their actions, words or, in my case – word.  Then I make it through the lesson on respecting others by obeying the law without cursing even once.  Congratulate me.

Kids are great about forgiveness.  They have an uncanny sense of right and wrong, while at the same time, they are young enough that their “forgiver mechanism” isn’t all gummed up from improper usage or non-use.  I think it is because they spill stuff all the time.  They have that moment of, “Well, here comes a stiff beating.”  Only to hear, “Help me clean this up.  You need to be more careful.”  They understand that mistakes have natural consequences, but they also realize that many mistakes don’t come with a side order of extra punishment.

The older we get, the more right we become about nearly everything.  The more right we become, the more punishment we demand with the wrongs committed against us.  Saying, “I forgive you,” comes with a “but…”  That phrase is meant to come with responsibility; “I will attempt to not punish you for your wrongful treatment of me.”  Sometimes attempt is the best we can do for the moment.  It’s a beginning.

Go drive respectfully, try not to cuss so much and for heaven’s sake, practice forgiveness; even toward all the people(sic) that don’t have it figured out just yet.