Because of my mild mannered persona, few people are aware that for much of my life I was exceedingly angry.  Most of the time I somehow managed to contain my rage and reserved its expression for selected opportunities when I could let loose on total strangers. 

One of my favorite opportunities was behind the wheel.  For those who think road rage is a recent phenomenon, let me share a story from twenty years back that served as an initial wake up call to try dealing with my anger more appropriately.

On this particular occasion I was driving on the freeway with my usual “model citizen” flare when out of nowhere some a**h*le in a Ford Ranger came roaring up from behind.  After coming within inches of slamming into the rear end of my car, he managed by sheer luck to swerve sharply to the left and accelerate past me in a cloud of exhaust.

Within seconds I was consumed by a seething rage.  Not to be outdone by this wise guy, I immediately sped up, coming within inches of slamming into two other cars on my way to catching up with him.

When I was able to move up alongside his truck, I mouthed some words not repeatable on a PG-13 blog while raising my hand in an extended middle finger gesture commonly denoted as negative in intent.  As I sped past his truck I noticed that he reacted with an expression of incredulous indignation while returning his own extended middle finger gesture.

I assumed we had completed our interaction to our mutual satisfaction until I noticed in my rear view mirror that he was approaching my car at a high rate of speed in what I came to realize was the beginning of an actual car chase. 

When he was close behind me, he began pointing and gesturing to his right, until I realized with horror that he was asking me to pull over to the side of the freeway.  Since I had no intention of complying with his request, I assessed my few remaining options and astutely decided that speeding up was the best approach.

Literally driving for my life with Mr. Ford Ranger in hot pursuit, I sped on in a state of helpless panic I have rarely experienced in my life.  Thinking he might not want to go out of his way, I decided to take the next exit leading to a two-lane country road.  When I saw him follow me with a gleefully insane look on his face, I knew I had made the wrong decision.  This guy seemed willing to follow me to hell and back.

With increased traffic and no passing lane, I couldn’t drive as fast on this road as I had on the freeway.  This allowed my pursuer to accelerate right up to my bumper, back off slightly, accelerate again, and so on.  Then a flash of supreme bone chilling fear overtook me as I saw him lean over and reach for something from his glove compartment.  I could literally imagine how the bullet would feel passing through my head as I’m losing control of the car and flying over the embankment to the valley 100 yards below.

Just at that moment the road widened, with large shoulders on either side, allowing me to make a split second U-turn and head back to the freeway at lightning speed.  Though I assumed the Ford Ranger would make the same maneuver and continue the pursuit, I kept my concentration on the road ahead and didn’t look back. 

When I finally saw the freeway entrance ahead, I ventured a glance in the rear view mirror and felt the first glimmer of hope and redemption.  There was no sign of the truck.  I didn’t allow myself to breathe a deep sigh of relief until I had driven on the freeway for another few minutes without my pursuer in tow.

It was probably at least six months after this incident before I reverted to my familiar road rage, but I traded my middle finger gesture for a big shrug and incredulous facial sneer, a less risky but equally satisfying approach to conveying my disdain for annoying drivers.

-  A.G.R