Learning To Drive: Lesson: Road Rage

6/29/18

You may or may not know this, but I’m a DFW transplant. Yes, after 20 plus years, this is my home. I’m a card carrying Tex-Mex loving, heat tolerating, blue bonnet squatting, Shiner drinking Texas gal. But at my core, I’m a small-town mountain gal. Yes, this does mean an absence of amazing Tex-Mex (No, Taco Bell does NOT count.) but it also means the absence of another thing. TRAFFIC. 

When I first moved here, other than thinking Bonnie

Raitt was country music, and barbecue was a backyard burger, I was completely unfamiliar with the concept of freeways, exit ramps, and most of all, ROAD RAGE. Many was the time I was that yokel, STOPPED on the ramp to the freeway, waiting for an opening to merge with 80 mile an hour traffic. Now, after years of experience, I can tell you exactly how to head east on North West Highway and get on to 75 South; I can tell you when to avoid the Dallas North Tollway; I can tell you to ALWAYS pay the money and take the 635 Express lanes. My toll tag is my favorite car accessory. I can tell you that no matter where you’re headed, leave an hour and a half early if you want to be on time, unless you’re headed to Denton. Then you want to leave at least two hours early…  But there’s still one thing I don’t do. Road rage. I don’t do anger well. Ask anyone who’s ever seen me burst in to tears when I get angry. I just don’t handle that emotion gracefully. So, I avoid road rage situations. I abort any time I feel like I’m in one. I always give way. I even carry a container of bubbles to break the tension of sitting in standstill traffic. Seriously, it works; people are either amused by the sight or afraid I’m unstable; either way, rage averted! I simply don’t deal healthily with anger.

But taking a quick look at my past year, and being honest with myself, I’m MAD. I’m angry as hell at times…I could spit tacks. I have flashes of red rage when I think of what I no longer have, what I won’t have moving forward. And it always ends up with me handling it the same as always..out of control..in tears. In DFW traffic speak, I’m that driver on I35 tailgating and flashing you, and then flipping you the bird as I pass you on the shoulder.

Out of control. Speeding. Going nowhere and much too fast. In a rage.

With the help of so many friends, I saw it. When those wonderful friends pointed it out, sufficiently hitting me over the head with the truth, I recognized it.  And with their support, I exited. I got off the freeway, so to speak, at the first available off ramp.

For the next couple of months, namely summer, I’m sticking to backroads. I’m going to navigate my life in a small-town mountain gal kind of way. I’m slowing my speed WAY down. I’m pulling off to the side of the dirt road of life whenever something strikes my fancy. I’m turning off the GPS and using a Rand McNally. (Kids,,sigh,,once again, look it up.)

When autumn, approaches and life and my singing season get busy again, I’ll get back on the freeway. I won’t slow down on the entrance ramp, I’ll enter the traffic stream smoothly and navigate the insanity of my wonderful crazy life. But I will have learned this beautiful lesson. I will know the lovely balance of using a turn signal and getting off at an exit when I need to slow the pace for a while. Or when I see a sign for an off road adventure. Or when I need to breathe deeply and gain control. I will balance the two parts of my life; crazy fun Dallas freeway existence with small town mountain gal. I will sense when road rage is creeping upon me, and I’ll give way, I’ll exit, I’ll blow bubbles.

For now though, it’s summer, and here’s a thought; if you want to talk or laugh, about anything, get in touch with me, I’m available. If you want to chase a cloud with me, let me know, I’m free. If you want to have any kind of adventure, I’ll be the Thelma to your Louise (no Grand Canyon though…). Call me, text me, write me a letter. I’ll answer, I’ll text back, I’ll write back. I’m ready to have some grand small-town mountain gal adventures. The sky is the limit. We can giggle, chat, re-connect, connect for the first time, act crazy; I just won’t get angry. I won’t race along, pushing everyone out of the way as I speed to the next place as quickly as possible.

I’ll even bring an extra bottle of bubbles.