Drive My Car

Lots of people complain about other drivers. “I can’t believe these people. Nobody knows how to drive. Fast lane, slow lane, no signal, he cut me off! Make up your mind! Go! It’s green already!”

When I drive I feel like I’m in the way. “Sorry, am I bothering you? I’m just trying to fit in. Can I get in here? No, you go ahead. Really. I’ll wait. You’re probably the better driver, anyway.”

Ever have somebody pass you on the right, and make an obscene gesture? I have. These are pivotal times in my life. This guy is already so frustrated with whatever else he’s dealing with, he reacts graphically, in a way he’d never admit to his grandma. I was just the one to push him over the edge.

So why was I driving too slowly in the left lane anyway? I don’t know. I don’t even know if I was. But he thinks I was. So, guilty as charged.

When I think of all the people I see on I-20, whom I’ll never meet, I marvel. Millions of them. We’re all out there, going different places, in the same direction, for different reasons, at the same time. We’re all together, alone in our cars. So can we please get along?

I don’t think we’ll drive in heaven.

I think it’s all public transportation.