Rage and its wrinkles

by Janet Lane

A road rage trial is in progress in Denver.  A maniac driver caused the death of two innocent people back in November.  It frustrates me to read his pitiful defense, that he really didn't pull in front of another driver and slam on his brakes, right in front of him, on a high speed highway; that he didn't cause the driver he was attacking to swerve, hit him, flip in the air toward oncoming traffic and land on another car, instantly killing both innocent drivers.  He can't, of course, refute his history of road rage, can't deny the testimony of three witnesses who confirmed he scared them to death and tried to do exactly the same thing to them.  Or the testimony of the driver of the wrecker who came to haul away what was left of one of the victim's cars and this subhuman idiot driver said the victim "got what he deserved, got what he had coming."

This horsepower-enabled maniac had thirteen prior traffic offenses that involved precisely what caused this double fatality: pulling ahead of a vehicle he tailgated and slamming on the brakes.

How can this man have had a driver's license in November?  He was a murderer-in-the-making, and his license wasn't revoked.  

This kind of helplessness in the face of a police and judicial system that's supposed to protect us frustrates and angers me.  What scum!  He's lucky I'm not the judge!  Yeah, I'd like to put him in his killing-machine car on a deserted interstate and put four eighteen-wheeler trucks around him and play a game of human ping pong so he can experience some of the terror he's caused on the road.

What's with men and rage?  Damned testosterone!

Ah, but it's not just testosterone on the highways.  Estrogen seems to boil out there, too.  I get frustrated, myself, if I'm in a hurry and meet another driver who thwarts my progress by hovering in indecision, or changing their minds and not turning, causing me to catch a red light.  

This anger knows no gender or age limitations.  I've had little old ladies scream at me, young ladies flip me the bird, guys honk and pound their steering wheel with anger.  I'm not the best driver in the world, but I've seen a host of other drivers make the same mistakes I have - been lost, trying to read a street sign, or realized I was turning on the wrong block, or not realized the light turned green - to know I'm pretty much an average driver.

I used to experience intense anger at the wheel, but I learned a philosophy that's useful on and off the road, and that's a Jesus philosophy (don't run, screaming; this isn't a religious lecture, but Jesus happened to be insightful) - "Let he without sin cast the first stone."

This small adjustment to my perception of road anger (not the aforementioned murderous road rage) has helped me.  When I encounter dumb mistakes from other drivers, I remind myself of my own and think, "S/he's doing the best s/he can at this moment."  Provided the other driver isn't a road rage bull, they're probably much like us, late to pick up the kids, late for work, distracted by a fight with their boyfriend, whatever.  (I'm a fiction writer so I can imagine dozens of problems that can upset or distract a driver, lowering their driving proficiency.)

Lest you think I'm a syrupy Pollyanna, keep in mind that developing this way of looking at other drivers can be a self-preserving habit.  Do you realize how large a role unleashed anger plays on such physical conditions as blood pressure, ulcers, cancer, and even something so vain as facial wrinkles?  Do you want to etch a vertical frown line between your eyes because of an everyday error made by another driver?  They're doing the best they can at that moment.  Just let it go.  Again, I'm not talking about incidents of rage, but about small daily errors.  Big problems need attention because emotional doormats will get stomped on.  I'm talking about everyday errors of little or no consequence.

This same philosophy applies to the board room, the bedroom, the living room.  Accepting other people's human-ness, the innate propensity to err, will free you from mental angst that can ruin your dinner/morning/day/lunch/evening, spare you from potentially health-threatening physical ailments, and protect your face from unsightly wrinkles. 

No, I can't excuse this maniac driver for murder.  It made me furious.  I channeled that anger by venting here, by imagining what I feel would be appropriate punishment, and by writing a letter to the editor, asking why this man still carried a valid driver's license, why, given his history, there was no concerted effort to get him off the streets. 

His unchanneled anger has trapped him in a tunnel of darkness.  For the big things, fight!  Do what you can to get these monsters off the streets/boardrooms/bedrooms.

But for simple daily errors, spare yourself the wrinkles and angst and remember, we're all just doing the best we can.

Janet Lane, author of the best-selling historical romance novel Tabor's Trinket and contemporary women's fiction, writes entire novels about conflict, anger, passion and adventure.  Visit her website, www.janetlane.net.  Read excerpts and enter her monthly contest to win an exotic medieval anagram that will have your friends talking!

Mini bio/Upcoming Events:

Janet Lane writes medieval romances and contemporary women's fiction,  leads writer's workshops, and writes a monthly column for the Rocky Mountain Writer.  Her November, 2006 debut novel, Tabor''s Trinket,  reached the best-seller list in Denver.

On Sunday, February 18, she will be at the AAUW Women Author Series, "Oh, That Lovin' Feeling: Love of Place, Men and Other Passions" presented from 3-5 p.m. at the Meadows Library, 4800 Baseline Rd. in Boulder, CO.  

WILLA and PEN-USA award winner Laura Pritchett and California author, journalist and teacher Lea Aschkenas will also be on the panel.  More information at http://coaauw.org/boulder/WomenAuthorsPart2.html