Red. The colour on the traffic signal represented everything I felt. A couple of bikes to my right were inching out of the line onto the intersection. Why? Why couldn't they wait a couple more seconds. The walking signal now showed a stop to those wishing to cross. One guy with headphones came running the last second.
I felt anger. No I felt rage. The green signal came on. I paused for a second and promptly was goaded by a horn. A second delay and they had no patience. See this is what was wrong with people. No patience. And the second I moved, the car behind me decided to overtake me from the back and move to the front. And we were stuck at yet another signal. How many signals? Especially for those who had no regard for them nor the patience.
One guy flipped me for moving at the designated speed limit. Another yelled at me for switching on the indicator a requisite 10 feet away from my turn. If they did not want to follow the rules, why take the test and pass them, go on through the trouble of wasting time and energy put into issuing of a license?
Driving always brings out the worst in me. I have failed the test 3 times and I know now the entire book of instructions like I know the menu of my favorite diner.
Particularly today, I am furious. I am just returning from a funeral of my nephew. He was 18. He was killed in an accident that involved alcoholic drivers. He was innocent. And he was following the rules.
I felt justified in feeling the anger. Now there was this guy who moved into my lane without signaling and I had to hit my brakes to avoid collision.
To hell with it. I sped up. I could see the taillights. I could see them real close. And closer.
I hit the car. The air bag blew up on my face. I was slightly suffocated, but it felt good. The ferric taste of my blood. The incessant beeping of my horn. The sudden brakes. The sound of cars skidding to a stop and taking a last minute change of lane felt good.
This rage felt good. And releasing it felt good.
The color red felt good.
I felt anger. No I felt rage. The green signal came on. I paused for a second and promptly was goaded by a horn. A second delay and they had no patience. See this is what was wrong with people. No patience. And the second I moved, the car behind me decided to overtake me from the back and move to the front. And we were stuck at yet another signal. How many signals? Especially for those who had no regard for them nor the patience.
One guy flipped me for moving at the designated speed limit. Another yelled at me for switching on the indicator a requisite 10 feet away from my turn. If they did not want to follow the rules, why take the test and pass them, go on through the trouble of wasting time and energy put into issuing of a license?
Driving always brings out the worst in me. I have failed the test 3 times and I know now the entire book of instructions like I know the menu of my favorite diner.
Particularly today, I am furious. I am just returning from a funeral of my nephew. He was 18. He was killed in an accident that involved alcoholic drivers. He was innocent. And he was following the rules.
I felt justified in feeling the anger. Now there was this guy who moved into my lane without signaling and I had to hit my brakes to avoid collision.
To hell with it. I sped up. I could see the taillights. I could see them real close. And closer.
I hit the car. The air bag blew up on my face. I was slightly suffocated, but it felt good. The ferric taste of my blood. The incessant beeping of my horn. The sudden brakes. The sound of cars skidding to a stop and taking a last minute change of lane felt good.
This rage felt good. And releasing it felt good.
The color red felt good.
good one
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