Road Zen

Driving is one of the top 10 stressors of daily living. We sit claustrophobically in a metal box, urgently navigating our way to a destination while avoiding interference and irritation from others.

I spend more than half of my time working in the community. This means the job requires many hours on the road. My co-workers and I experience the obstacles of the streets all too often.

“C’mon, move you fucking bitch!” a co-worker yelled as she honked at the driver in front of her. We were on our way to lunch and the woman hadn’t noticed the light was green. My co-worker was from the East Coast and according to her, it was unacceptable.

“Ya know,” I offered, “I think we are all a little guilty of spacing out at lights every now and then.”

She turned to me with a glare. “That is very ‘zen’ of you,” she said with her New Jersey accent. “What? Are you fucking Gandhi now?”

Her brash attitude made me laugh. But I wonder what it would be like if the wisdom of Gandhi was applied to our behavior on the road.

The second we sit behind the wheel, we instantly become self motivated. Anyone who interferes automatically irritates us while we unknowingly interfere with others.

Gandhi is famous for saying, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” By this rationale, if I wanted more peace in my car, I would have to offer it to others first.

Since this incident with my coworker, I  try to reserve my horn for moments when cars were actually in danger of collision. If someone cuts me off, instead of shooting him or her the middle finger I gently wave, hoping to send a message of human acknowledgement. And if someone honks at me or gives me the middle finger, I wave again as a sign of apology for anything I might have done wrong.

My methods began working. And although I am not certain if people were truly getting my message of road peace, I was beginning to feel more calm in my own car.

Until one day.

I was in heavy traffic patiently waiting to reach the turn lane to the highway. I put on my turn signal and once I cleared the street lines I began to move in. In my rear view mirror, I watched a not-so-patient SUV jump the gun for the same lane. I almost got hit, the SUV hadn’t paid attention to my little sedan and its humble blinker.

I could see through the mirror that a cute Asian girl was in the SUV. Our eyes locked and I smiled, offering a sign of peace. Instead of reciprocating the peace, she flipped me the bird.

As we merged onto the highway, our cars became parallel. She looked over and gave me the middle finger again, then sped up. My inner Gandhi tanked as my anger took the wheel. I slammed on my gas pedal and followed her.

The girl swerved in and out of traffic trying to lose me, but I kept in tight, motioning her to pull over. I thought about what I would say to her if she actually did. I couldn’t be a jerk. Maybe if I offered her words of peace we could create an opportunity for understanding.

However, this aggressive car chase was not the best way to encourage harmony.

Eventually she pulled into a parking lot and we both got out of our cars.

“Can I help you?” she asked timidly, as if she had no clue what had happened in our turn lane conundrum.

Luckily, my tattoos were hidden under my work clothes so I looked like a button-up citizen.

“Just so you know I am not aggressive.  I just really wanted to talk about what happened back there.”

“OK,” she said, still unsure. This didn’t seem like the same woman who had given me a vulgar gesture twice.

I began explaining the rules of the road like a driver’s ed teacher. I said the double lines meant that she couldn’t cross over yet and because she did so too soon, she almost hit me. Before I could get to the part where she flipped me off, her attitude shifted back.

“No,” she screamed in my face. “You most certainly can cross over double lines and you are the one who almost hit me!”

Any moment I tried to revert back to a more diplomatic dialogue, she just yelled louder. I didn’t want to stoop to her level or else all my Gandhi gains would be thrown out the window.

“You know,” I yelled back, “there are starving children in Africa!” The comment had nothing to do with our situation. It was the first thing that came out of my mouth.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked with an angry and puzzled look on her face.

Truth be told, I did not quite know. But I said it and had to make it work.

“There are children starving and all you care about is yourself. You are running around on the road like all that matters is yourself. And then you flip me off! What kind of person are you? That is so crude and disgusting.”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” she snarked back. “I’m late for work.”

I wasn’t sure if I was making sense anymore. Instead of being a peacemaker, I became more of a guilt-tripper. But something I said clearly struck a chord with her as she refused to have the conversation and stomped off.

“There are starving kids in Africa and the only thing you have done so far today is flip somebody off. Think about what kind of person you are!” I yelled at her as she got back into her SUV.

As she zoomed off, I stood alone in the parking lot, feeling silly. When I got to the office and told my co-workers about what happened, they were eager to remind me that Gandhi would not have engaged in a car chase to get his point across. They also told me I was lucky I didn’t get a good face full of mace or the police called on me.

I sat down and thought about how, even if my intentions had been right, I went about it all wrong. I would never know if I actually had a positive impact on this woman. So I logged on to my computer and did something I have never done before: I made a donation to a charity for starving kids in Africa.