Nurse the Hate: I'm The Problem

The man in the beat to shit Toyota Corolla hit his brakes in front of me, swerved violently to the right when I tried to pass, and ultimately screamed and threatened to hurt me yesterday afternoon on the Shoreway at Dead Man’s Curve.  This is not the first time I have been the target of road rage.  Far from it.  In fact, in the last ten days I have been flipped off and screamed at by three different people after I rode behind them in the left lane.  The first time I thought, “What an asshole that guy is in that mini van.”.  The second time I thought, “What’s wrong with that woman?”.  Yesterday it finally dawned on me.  It’s me.  I’m the asshole. 

Allow me to be completely transparent.  I drive very fast.  I am always driving faster than surrounding traffic.  I view traffic as a never ending obstacle that I need to conquer.  I continue to buy higher and higher performance automobiles as a way to insure that I have all the tools necessary to enrage every other motorist that wanders into my sphere.  I have an unshakable belief in the idea of the left lane being the passing lane.  If you are driving 176 mph and someone is approaching behind you, move the fuck over.  As the guy driving 177 mph in the left lane, I feel  I have the justifiable right to climb so far on your ass you would swear I am in your trunk.  This belief has clearly run afoul of the consensus of the general population.

I think we can all agree that the blank faced driver in the passing lane unaware of the half mile string of cars behind him jamming up rush hour traffic is a nuisance that should be dealt with via the full force of our legal system.  I believe that there should be a rush hour driver’s license, whereas if you are unable to change lanes effortlessly and maintain traffic flow, you are not allowed to drive highways between 6a-9a and 4p-7p.  This is a dangerous idea, but I remind you, these are dangerous times.

I stand before you with a superiority complex built on legging the mileage on America’s roadways normally reserved for long haul truck drivers.  I have driven almost anywhere you can think of from Montreal to Tampa over to Austin across to Seattle and back to Cleveland.  While this experience has given me an understanding of the way things should be, it has isolated me as some sort of traffic elitist.  I understand that now.

I don’t know how I am going to modify my behavior.  I naturally want to keep accelerating.  That damn car wants to run.  I don’t know the best way to avoid ugly incidents like the family man in his mini van screaming at me in front of his wife and daughters, a vein on his forehead throbbing as spittle and venom flew out of the driver’s side window.  How can I prevent the man yesterday, risking his own safety and following me downtown as if he was going to fight me after I laughed at him and his pathetic attempts to stop my aggressive driving?  Can I continue to look back without regret to the woman that pounded her steering wheel and repeatedly flipped me off after I shot past her on the right, and cut back in front of her in the left lane by the narrowest of margins of rush hour traffic? 

I don’t know.  The simple fact remains if I am upsetting all these people consistently, they aren't the problem.  There is no hiding from the plain facts.  It's not them.  It’s me. 

I’m the asshole.