She wasn't saying that I could do anything about them... or anything
at all about the traffic... she was merely suggesting that—if I wished
to—I could probably do something about my own attitude.
Still, I thought the three of us—the slow-poke, the truck driver and
the real reason for both of their problems—were all guilty. Though
undoubtedly wonderful people in every other aspect of our lives, we
had all, momentarily, lost sight of the big picture. Each of us had
given in to our baser instincts and had become unreasonable behind
the wheel. So, you know, I pondered...
I had no idea why the slow-poke was driving so slowly, BUT I had to
admit that there were times when I've driven slowly, and had good
reason for doing so. I also confessed that I had no idea why that big
truck-driving moron was being so aggressive, but, had to admit that
there were times, in my past, when I'd driven slowly for no other
reason than to piss off people like him.
Now, freshly awash in wifely wisdom, I could see that that kind of
behavior—driving slowly just to piss someone off—probably had been
maybe just a little bit unreasonable.
And, at that very moment I had a vision.
I saw all the people in all their cars, stuck in traffic on every street,
every road, every highway and byway throughout this great nation.
And I saw the possibility of a brighter future for all of us.
And that bright future was built upon THIS: a bumper sticker...
at all about the traffic... she was merely suggesting that—if I wished
to—I could probably do something about my own attitude.
Still, I thought the three of us—the slow-poke, the truck driver and
the real reason for both of their problems—were all guilty. Though
undoubtedly wonderful people in every other aspect of our lives, we
had all, momentarily, lost sight of the big picture. Each of us had
given in to our baser instincts and had become unreasonable behind
the wheel. So, you know, I pondered...
I had no idea why the slow-poke was driving so slowly, BUT I had to
admit that there were times when I've driven slowly, and had good
reason for doing so. I also confessed that I had no idea why that big
truck-driving moron was being so aggressive, but, had to admit that
there were times, in my past, when I'd driven slowly for no other
reason than to piss off people like him.
Now, freshly awash in wifely wisdom, I could see that that kind of
behavior—driving slowly just to piss someone off—probably had been
maybe just a little bit unreasonable.
And, at that very moment I had a vision.
I saw all the people in all their cars, stuck in traffic on every street,
every road, every highway and byway throughout this great nation.
And I saw the possibility of a brighter future for all of us.
And that bright future was built upon THIS: a bumper sticker...
One day, while stuck in traffic—with a slow-poke impeding us, and a
large truck riding my rear bumper—I had a realization.
I realized that there are three types of drivers in this world: the slow-
poke—like the guy directly in front of me—with no real desire to
ever get anywhere, and... the truck driver—like that guy on my tail—
driving as if engulfed in flames, with me the last remaining obstacle
between himself and gushing water, and... the perfectly reasonable
driver—like myself—victim to the mindless dawdling of one and prey
to the self-imposed urgency of the other.
I presented this theory to my wife, who casually replied, “Don’t you
see that YOU are the truck driver for that poor person in front of us, as
well as the slow-poke for the truck driver behind us?”
Actually, I hadn’t seen that. And, at the time, it seemed like the most
remarkable observation I had ever heard.
So, apparently I was the problem. I was being unreasonable.
The slow-poke would have agreed with her. He probably thought I was
both unreasonable and pushy (if he had any thoughts at all).
The truck driver would have agreed as well. All he was asking was that
I clear a wide path through slow-moving traffic for him.
I thought about that a bit... while keeping a wary eye on the rearview
mirror. Slowly (as is my way) I began to understand what my wife was
trying to tell me: us perfectly reasonable drivers are the problem.
large truck riding my rear bumper—I had a realization.
I realized that there are three types of drivers in this world: the slow-
poke—like the guy directly in front of me—with no real desire to
ever get anywhere, and... the truck driver—like that guy on my tail—
driving as if engulfed in flames, with me the last remaining obstacle
between himself and gushing water, and... the perfectly reasonable
driver—like myself—victim to the mindless dawdling of one and prey
to the self-imposed urgency of the other.
I presented this theory to my wife, who casually replied, “Don’t you
see that YOU are the truck driver for that poor person in front of us, as
well as the slow-poke for the truck driver behind us?”
Actually, I hadn’t seen that. And, at the time, it seemed like the most
remarkable observation I had ever heard.
So, apparently I was the problem. I was being unreasonable.
The slow-poke would have agreed with her. He probably thought I was
both unreasonable and pushy (if he had any thoughts at all).
The truck driver would have agreed as well. All he was asking was that
I clear a wide path through slow-moving traffic for him.
I thought about that a bit... while keeping a wary eye on the rearview
mirror. Slowly (as is my way) I began to understand what my wife was
trying to tell me: us perfectly reasonable drivers are the problem.
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