Last Words: Driving Miss Crazy

I’m considered a pleasant person by most of the people I know and have worked with. Some would even go so far as to say I’m friendly. I’m relatively polite, I don’t argue with strangers and I’m nice to my neighbors. By most standards I would say I’m fairly well-behaved. I’m the passive-aggressive type who agrees to disagree a lot of the time just to avoid confrontation. When I’m alone in my car, on the other hand, I turn into another person.

In traffic all my bottled annoyance and anger spills out like they’re in a chemistry lab during an earthquake. The radio is very loud. I scream with every song even if I don’t know the lyrics. I argue angrily with the radio hosts and then I laugh like a lunatic when I surprise myself with the foul language from my hellmouth.

I threaten other drivers with rude hand gestures. I roll my eyes and call them ugly names. “Drive slower if you possibly can, old man-toad, WHY AM I WATCHING YOU DYING?”

“NICE GORE-TEX SUPER TOURIST, YOU’RE IN REYKJAVÍK, BUY YOURSELF SOME TASTE WITH THE MONEY YOU SAVED WITH THE HOMEMADE SANDWICHES YOU BROUGHT TO ICELAND!”

“WALK FASTER, GODDAMN IT! NOT EVERYONE IS ON A VACATION YOU KNOW!” “SO YOU’RE ON A BIKE, CONGRATULATIONS AND WIPE THE SMUGNESS OF YOUR FACE WITH YOUR UGLY BUFF!”

I didn’t fully realize how odd this behavior was until the other day, when I was driving and talking on the phone with my friend on speaker. When the conversation was over I was trying to get into another lane. The other drivers didn’t let me in immediately so I began cursing them loudly.

“SO IS THIS THE SICK LITTLE GAME YOU’RE PLAYING MOTHERFUCKER?” I went instantly quiet when I heard a tiny little “hello?” from my friend whom I had accidentally taken hostage in my crazymobile by not hanging up. I felt like someone had seen me for the monster that I really am and wondered if I should go to a therapist or just take the bus.