One recent morning I entered the New Jersey Turnpike from my town of Hoboken. Construction had cut the entry road to one lane, so I was three cars in back of a “wide load” trailer that was literally carrying an electrical tower strapped down. Big vehicle, to say the least.
As we made our way up to 60 miles per hour and it went to two lanes, I estimated we were about a quarter mile from the toll booth where I would free myself from driving near this monstrosity. I figured I would take it easy until then. However, the young lady driving the Range Rover in back of me had other ideas. She came up on my bumper and laid on her horn because I wasn’t passing a wide load on a curve.
I caught her eye in the rear view mirror and shrugged. It infuriated her. I yelled a few unsavory things and told her to perhaps leave earlier next time. No one heard it but me. It was as if the words came flying out of their own volition. They were heated and raw. And I could feel my blood pressure rising.
Just seconds later, Range Rover long gone and wide load in my wake, I took a few deep breaths and my mind went into analytic mode. Why had that upset me so much? Or more to the point, why had I let it upset me so much?
An urban resident for 15 years, I haven’t owned a car since the 1990s. I am currently “babysitting” a friend’s car while she and her husband are out of the country on a long-term assignment. It has been an amazingly liberating experience to get behind the wheel once a month or so to give the car some needed ‘exercise.’ I really enjoy driving.
But what I’ve noticed about being in the driver’s seat more frequently than I have been in a long time is how much I’ve changed since last owning a car and driving every day in my suburban life. I no longer drive from a place of ego. You want to go faster? Go right ahead. You want to beat me to a spot? Have at it.
What happened on this day, I think, is that I felt my safety threatened. She was on my tail and I already felt hemmed in by the wide load. My outbursts in the car are rare, but I’ve begun to notice now they almost always center on a perceived threat to my safety. It actually soothes me to know this, that I’m no longer reacting knee-jerk to someone besting me but simply having a genuine response to what’s transpiring on the road.
I live riveted to learning and growing. Everyday situations like this are my best teachers because there is always a past experience to serve as a compare-and-contrast model. I enjoy realizing that there are some things I could never have handled in my 30s, but I confront with patience and calm now.
It’s maturity, in part. But for me there’s so much more to it. I really, really, really believe that life is short and that I don’t want to spend it in anger or pettiness. Move on, maybe after some deconstruction, and chalk it up to another thing that has made me stronger or just more self-aware.
I’m not in a hurry. My greatest risks are taken in my creative life. This is what I know.
Once upon a time I was the young lady in the Range Rover. Not anymore.
By Nancy Colasurdo
