Turn outs

.
Among my most recent realizations is that I am sometimes intolerant.  What?  ME??? Ugggghhhh.  But yes, it is true.  Every time I become annoyed with someone because they're not quick or smart enough, I am being intolerant. I'm not at all judging another driver for the type of car they're driving, but rather how they're driving it, and how that might affect me or anyone else. 

I have heard myself many times touting the benefit of having grown up in the world's largest melting pot (NYC).  It's entirely difficult to not accept people as people, regardless of their tonal qualities, when you have to count on them to help you keep the beat and rhythm.  Running the streets and swaying in the subways of NY, you must maintain a quick pace and you need to count on the same efforts from your neighbors.  If one person slows down it becomes a log jam, with a backup that blocks all progress.  Everything always seems fine when people keep moving.  Go with the flow. 

Living in California now I have become a bit more mellow and I'm not sure if I wouldn't be the new grid's block in that maddening NY pace.  It feels as though I've gone from raging river to babbling brook over time.  And yet, I still have an urgent sense to rush and keep things moving.  Yesterday I had a beautiful drive home from Palm Springs down some steep hills, through blasted rock banks, and around dizzying, curvy roads.  Of course the routes only offered one lane in each direction and with all of the blind turns, not a whole lot of yellow dashes.

In no way do I begrudge anyone the right to drive at a safe and comfortable speed.  Sometimes even I slow down a bit.  What I find so frustrating, that always brings out the worst in me, (as well as bringing colorful words out of my mouth) is when Captain Cautious suddenly speeds up at the sight of my delicious dashes.  Is it really the greatest insult to have someone pass you?  What if, g-d forbid, you aren't -g-a-s-p- doing your very best?  Well then, you show them how it's done, and ram that pedal to the metal!  Ain't nobody passing me!  This went on for 30 miles.  There weren't a whole lot of breaks in the line-age but each time there was, like Old Faithful, that silver Toyota went off!

I'm not sure if his coffee finally kicked in, but after a while my silver fox caught up to a line of cars, with me right on his tail.  There was a camaraderie in the procession as my friend was proud of his new status.  Fine, I thought, at least we're moving smoothly now (see how tolerant I've become?).  We were until a big, black FORD pickup tried to hitch his wagon to my personal star.  This guy didn't seem to care that 6 inches was not a safe buffer.  Every once in a while he'd fall back, but then come zooming up again.  I was waiting for his arm to come out the window, swinging his lasso, ready to rope me from behind.

After having quite enough of his rude behavior I saw a sign for a TURN OUT which suggested that slower moving cars employ this act of grace.  Nope.  I wasn't even going slow- no way I was going out of my way to give him a turn in the lead.  Besides, he'd just wind up right behind another car, tormenting them in the same way.  He wasn't too happy that I didn't turn out, so he turned up the volume on his anger.  In a mercifully short while, there was another turn where I could get out of this ridiculous tiff so I took it.  As he blew by me, never slowing down a bit, I snapped, "Bastard!"

Carefully resuming my journey on the scenic, winding road, I quickly caught sight of my camaradavan.  After I accelerated, on a mission of revenge, I decided instead to sit back and enjoy my own ride.  Sometimes we have to take things just a little bit slowly.  There are times when throwing up our hands in defeat is the best solution- the one that brings us peace.  So I guess it is true that you can't control anything, all you can do is take those turns carefully, accelerate through the straightaways, and bend a little, if you need to.  There's no guarantee of how things might turn out, but there is the satisfaction of progressing down the road, and being on my way. 

If I learn to tolerate my own intolerance, do you suppose that makes me just a little more tolerable?