Julia's Guide to Road Zen

Yes, the road, like countries and corporations and gay porn sites, is ruled by assholes. It seems like every day, something happens that makes you wish you had a gat in your glove compartment that you could pull out and wave around, if only in hopes of making an offensive driver wet himself just a tiny bit into his tan, suede, manually-adjustable seat. Just a tiny bit. Is that so wrong?

But let's face an undeniable fact. We all do assholic things when we drive. No one is innocent. Hell, I bet if Jesus had a license and had to brave the streets of Los Angeles, he might be prone to, every now and then, accidentally cutting off an SUV-driving heathen or two while busting through two lanes of traffic to pull a screeching right into the Del Taco drive-thru. Who says it's not possible?

My point is, it's so easy to fall victim to road rage because driving is impersonal. We're all in our cars, and have no idea who the other people around us are. They're just machines to us. Big, poorly-directed, braking-too-early, not-running-yellows-when-they-should-be-freakin'-flooring-it machines. And it's easy to hate a machine.

But imagine this...you're driving in your car. Your day's starting out dandy cuz your 18 year old college gymnast girlfriend who only wants sex with no strings attached, woke you up with a mindblowing hummer and you're all rosy and glowing and your head's buzzin' from the quart of steaming coffee tucked between your legs. You've managed to hit every single green light on your way to work and the DJ at your favorite radio station has had a heart attack and collapsed with the door to his booth locked so you're favorite song, REO Speedwagon's "Can't Fight This Feeling" has been on repeat for the last twenty minutes. So you're singing along in that high-pitch voice you get when you're in a really good mood, thinking about rainbows and puppies and butterflies against blue skies, when SOME MUTHERFUCKER IN A SHITTY OLD VAN damn near takes off your bumper when he swerves into your lane. You're SO FUCKING PISSED that you can't even find the horn. Then your steaming thermos of coffee tips over and floods your crotch, napalming your pubes through your new white cargos. You hit the gas and swerve into the next lane intent on having some WORDS with this ma'fucker. AND YOU ARE GONNA HAVE SOME WORDS WITH THIS MA'FUCKER! As you pull up to the offending van, murder boiling in your veins, you realize to your chagrin that the driver is no other than Sister Bonita of St. Joseph's who taught you music back when you were a wee tot and once donated a kidney to your beloved Auntie May when she was on her last legs. Sister Bonita, about 90 years old and just about swimming in her nun's habit, is driving a van full of bug-eyed special ed kids who are waving at you happily and feverishly through the windows. Sister Bonita notices you staring, and offers a kind smile. So what are you gonna do, tough guy?

Right. Nothing. Probably smile back and feel a little bit embarrassed. Because when you realized that the car that offended you is another PERSON, possibly someone you like and respect, then it's so much easier to be tolerant and forgiving and suppress that road rage.

So next time you're on the road and someone does something stupid that makes your blood boil, imagine that the driver is your best friend or girlfriend or pastor or favorite porn star. Whatever it takes to personalize it. Once you humanize those who share the road with you, you'll discover the secret to maintaining zen on the road.