It was easy to be excited. The weekend was one off to celebrate with a small group of people, all especially dear. You know the kind of circle… a safe one, fun one, one where you may laugh, cry, be silly or serious and maybe all of the above at the exact same time. You could talk about anything. Be safe there. It promised to be a great weekend, and nothing would deter me.
With the seven hour solo drive loosely mapped out with extended phone calls, podcasts, and a few coffee shop stops in between, I was set and ready to go.
I left my house, turned on the turnpike and was well prepped for the first few hours. It was mid-morning, and traffic was decently light. There were four lanes of traffic heading north out of Orlando. Again, with light traffic there were still cars in all lanes, but navigating the pass of slower cars was seemingly simplistic indeed.
Still in a great mood, I was in the third from the right lane, with the lane to my left being the one intended for the fastest among us. The speed limit is 70 mph there.
As I approached a slower car from behind in my lane (which for the record, had me going at 77 mph — sorry, Mom), I looked in the rear to my left and right, discerning which lane provided the path of greatest ease. Passing is always preferable to the left of the car one is passing, and with a vehicle near my blind spot on the right, moving into the fast lane to pass made the most sense.
There was a car in that lane several car lengths back. It was actually going faster than my chosen 77; it wasn’t hard to discern. However, it was indeed a ways back and I had the right of way. So I turned on my blinker and moved into the fast lane, passing the slower car.
A few seconds went by. Then a few more. I was soon to pass the vehicle once in front of me.
Then all of a sudden the one time car a ways back was on my tail. And not only were they on my tail, they were on their horn. Loudly.
I took a glance and continued on, passing the first car as planned. I then safely pulled in front of that car, back in lane number three. The honking car didn’t want to wait for my passing, so while I maneuvered as planned, they had now jetted over to the second lane from right, passing both me and the other car from the right side of the road. Ah, yes, they were now not only back on their horn, this time also including an emphatic hand gesture, mouthing some artful expletive and flipping me off.
Thank God for tinted windows. Just saying.
But I’ve thought about that driver many times.
Friends, I did nothing unsafe, unfair, un-nothing. I simply got in a lane to pass a car, safely and methodically. I didn’t cut anyone off nor do anything improper.
But…
I made another slow down.
I made another unable to go in the path and at the pace they wanted.
I got in another’s desired way. I inconvenienced them.
Because of that inconvenience — and let’s be honest — that’s what it was — it wasn’t a safety hazard or an impasse nor any sort of major complication — but because of that inconvenience, the driver of the other car justified focusing all her angst at me.
Of course that got me thinking…
How often to we magnify an inconvenience?
And then, after we magnify it, unable to perceive it fully accurately because we’ve taken no time nor intent to do so, how often do we focus our angst entirely on another?
And then, after we focus our angst entirely on another, how often do we justify treating them awfully?
Just thinking how misperception makes a difference… and how maybe we should pause a little bit more…
Respectfully…
AR