Road Rage Too Close to Home
I heard the horn. It was angry, close; this driver was pissed.
I didn’t look behind me to see the source, I looked through the windshield and saw pedestrians in the road. I sat in the back seat, horrified.
“Those idiots should be on the sidewalk, not in the road!” My son was driving.
“Are you crazy? You’re bullying them with the car!”
My screaming objections were met with equally loud rebuttals, so I sat steaming, waiting for heads to cool when I would press my case again.
Not an hour had passed since I posted Practicing Patience and here’s #1 son pulling a road rage scene right outside our door.
The road is narrow and uphill; the sidewalk has a serious guardrail to protect pedestrians. Of course some beach-departing revelers assume the sidewalk is optional and proceed up the roadway. It’s dicey, for them and anyone driving down the hill. I bike up this hill everyday.
I was too tired to do the driving, and besides, one of my bike riding buddies might spot me behind the wheel, so I tossed the keys. We were off to dinner, just me and my 2 boys — Mom was off at the movies with a friend.
Like advocacy in general, I pondered how to make my points and have them stick. After we parked the car the time seemed right; before we were seated the case was closed. I got acknowledgement and a promise of more patience.
“One driver at a time,” is how I feel this morning; hopefully my younger son learned something, too.
