Skip to main content

Peace and Road Rage

In this great state of Maine, unless you live in Portland and Lewiston surrounding areas, you need a car to get around.  We are all living here because for whatever our personal reasons, we like (for the most part) the peace and tranquility that is offered.

That is funny.  Accidents are three times more likely to happen on a suburban street than on the highway, according to a study last year by the National Transportation Safety Board.

I have never been as afraid for my safety in the years I lived in New York City and Boston.  You are more likely to be hit by a car walking your kid down the street to the bus stop.  This is why I refuse to let my anger diffuse.  I will not wait until a child I know becomes a casualty, and it is sure as hell not going to be my kid. 

I'm trying this new thing out where before I assume you are a jerk, I'm going to try to reason with you.  I'm sure you have a reason to be riding my car's bumper when I'm driving 40 in a 35 miles per hour zone.  I'm sure it's not because you are truly a piece of human garbage, but you need to get wherever you're going.  Have just a glimmer of awareness and give yourself enough space.  

I watched a bunch of boneheads (sorry- not very evolved of me) create a new drop off at my kid's elementary school.  And to be honest, can I blame them?  They aren't being told otherwise.  So now, when I'm pulling out and looking to pull safely over to the designated drop-off area, I have to watch for the cars that are trying to speed to avoid being stuck behind a bus.

I'm not going to let you ruin my kick-ass morning.  I wake up happy, I drink my happy little cup of coffee, and I (semi) happily get my kids ready and out the door.  I'm going to wish you peace and a moment of pause, so you can find your purpose in life and slow down and enjoy it.  

Those who are on this path are resolute in purpose, and their aim is one, O beloved child of the Kurus, the intelligence of those who are irresolute is many-branched.
A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada

I'm going to stay angry until I figure out a way to be more effective in fixing this growing problem.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Thankful for breath, death and pie.

I give thanks every day for my kids.  For my life.  For all I have. Today, Thanksgiving, I give thanks to the great grandfather I never met.  The "ne'er do well" that was responsible for his wife's death.  Who neglected his children and did nothing to change the outcomes of his circumstance. Thank you. Maybe it is because you forced a ten year old's hand in her mother's abortion, resulting in her death, is the reason I am a fierce advocate for the pro-choice movement. It could be, years later in her adulthood, when you came calling her (for money? for forgiveness? for...) created circumstances resulting in my b.s. detector. When you passed on your legacy to your son, who also took zero responsibility for his circumstances... is this why I hold people in my life accountable?  Why integrity is so very important to me?  Why the constant victim has no place in my life? I'm grateful for you.  While I will never fully understand your own pain and suf
Post a Comment
Read more

Let's talk about death, baby...

Betsa-rella cut it up one time... (Ooooss Oks...) Let's talk about death baby, let's talk about you and me. Let's talk about all the beauty and the trauma. That may be. Let's talk about death. Let's talk about death. Where are my 90s kids?  Salt-n-Pepa has honestly been my one true musical companion since I was old enough to play my own cassettes.  I was driving down the road the other day and this song popped into my head.  We don't talk about death as a culture.  It is a part of the human condition, but we don't talk about.  It is hard to be there for someone in their time of grief. I recall as a kid a classmate lost his grandfather.  I was at the store with my mother and I picked out a condolence card.  How monotone the messages were.  I'm sorry for your loss.  May you find peace.  May the memories comfort you.  I picked one, and months later when I was picking up my room, I found it.  I had second-guessed myself and my ability to be there
Post a Comment
Read more