My dad frustrated easily behind the wheel. I do too, so I come by it naturally. Unlike me, he never swore, but like me, he grit his teeth.
One thing that bothered Dad on the road was folks that cut in front of him when there was plenty of open road behind him. The guy cutting in only got one car length closer to wherever he was going, which seemed pointless to Dad.
The angriest I ever saw my father was when he saw an old car he'd traded in being driven by the new owner. The new owner hadn't washed it and it looked a mess.
I understand now the attachment a driver develops with a car. Cars become little homes on wheels, mobile safe rooms.
I suspect that those folks cutting into traffic are the same folks fond of other stress inducers, like hunting down the fastest line at the grocery checkout.
In fact, Dad said once that he made a study of how grocery lines move, and on average, lanes of the same size will move about the same speed, and the few minutes you gain or lose on this or that visit is outweighed by the time you spend jumping around.
Dad worked in the grocery business and knew the hum and rhythm well. Someone once told him to shove a box of Fiddle Faddle up his posterior.
All in a day’s work.
[2013-11-19]
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