I did something so immature today. (What? You're shocked? Well, so was I.) I was driving my daughter and her two friends to the airport. So I had three hyper, thirteen-year old girls in the car, listening to hyper, thirteen-year-old music. Obviously the goal became to complete mission as quickly and painlessly as possible. Which may or may not have involved speeding. :)
But the gray car ahead of me in the carpool lane did not share my goal. In fact, it appeared the driver had no goal whatsoever, other than ambling down the highway a mile or two under the speed limit. (Did I say carpool lane?) I could feel my blood pressure rise as I followed them at their snail's pace, completely TRAPPED in their lane until the dotted lines of lane-change freedom reappeared and I was finally able to swerve out around them.
Now for the immature part: As soon as I was even with them in the adjacent lane, I had this bewildering visceral response. I felt utterly compelled to turn and look right at them...and GROWL. Not just a little grrr, but a grrrrr that grew into an almost roar, like grrrrraaaaaoooowwwwhhhrrl! It felt awesome!
And then I started to laugh at myself. What WAS that? And where on earth did it COME from? It makes me shake my head and giggle right now, just imagining it: A middle-aged mom driving three kids to the airport, suddenly turning sideways and letting out this gigantic ROAR, and then continuing to cruise on down the highway as if nothing happened. Hilarious!
One of my favorite books is My Monastery is a Minivan. The author has somehow found a way to turn the place she spends the most time – the car – into a bastion of meditation and peace. I clearly need to reread it.