I was driving on the interstate yesterday, during a pretty active time of day. I quickly got up to legal speed in the right-hand lane, and set the cruise control. From this steady pace, I was mindful of the traffic flow ahead of me. Mindful of what the cars behind me were doing, and mindful of the surface conditions around me. Adjusting, as needed, ahead of time, in anticipation of…whatever. And it’s not because I’m a perfect driver, by any means (dang you, disco oldies radio station and air guitars!); it’s because I try to be a methodical driver.
Anyway, in my rearview mirror, I saw…That Guy. Mister It’s-All-About-Me. There he was, in the right-hand lane, but going about 8 miles an hour over the speed limit. All the road signs told him that a lesser speed was safer and adequate, but he was determined to push it faster. Now! Not because there was an emergency, but because he wanted and deserved whatever pace he thought he ought to have.
Conditions? Traffic flow? Legalities? Danger? BAH! Places to be! Things to do!
Go, now, go!
I watched him nudging up behind other vehicles, only to tap at his brakes, again and again. Push forward! Tap the brakes! Get frustrated! Scan to the left! Blind spot! Twist! Go!
Jerking the wheel to the left, always reacting-reacting-reacting to only what popped up in front of him, within 20 feet. Never looking ahead 60 or 100 or even 200 feet to anticipate what moves might be needed. Never taking a moment to think, “Okay, I chose to drive on the interstate at lunchtime. I knew there would be some traffic. Maybe some issues. I knew I’d need to be a bit patient. I knew this. So, relax and focus.“
No, no, no. Not That Guy.
And, of course, he was cursing the other drivers. Too stupid and clueless! Too slow! Don’t know what they’re doing! Doing it wrong! Why are you in my way? Don’t you get it?
Yet, why were the rest of us peacefully cruising along while he was freaking out? Hmmm?
But, anyway, back to the story…
He zigzagged his way ahead of me, zipped through the traffic flow, barreled ahead at a risky speed, always on the offense, until I lost sight of him.
So, about 12 or so minutes later, I exited the interstate. At the bottom of the ramp was a traffic light, aaaaand guess who was sitting...right...there...at a dead stop? That Guy! All that frenetic dodging, all that slow and go and slow and go and slow and go, all that risk and frustration…just to end up at the same place, at the same time, as those who had allowed enough time, had set a steady pace, followed the established rules, anticipated changing conditions, prepared for hazards, relaxed into it, and worked within the pattern of the day, as it unfolded, one car length at a time.
Cruise control, my friends. Cruuuuuuuise control. We’ll get to where we want to be, in due time, safe and sound. (And I'm not really talking about driving here, in case you didn't pick up on that...)
