This
 example happened while I was driving home one night.The
thoughts in my head were the usual reminders my subconscious is
always sending me: what to buy, whom to drop off, what to fill out,
and when to buy, drop off and fill out. I was solving problems and
calculating to the beat of a soft rock station. I listen to soft
rock when I solve problems. Hard rock makes me angry at everything.
Country-western makes me think I'm having marital problems even when
things are going well. Rap is... well... rap? Are you kidding?
Soft rock is my music of choice when traveling alone at night. I
was mellow but not sleepy, enjoying my alone-time with Josh Groban.
As I came around a corner, a car coming from the opposite
direction flashed his high beams at me. Since I did not have my high
beams on, I thought perhaps he was warning me of a speed trap.
I sent him a silent thank you and slowed down. I didn't know
exactly what the speed limit was on that road. It was not one on
which I traveled frequently. But if someone flashes me, I just
assume I might be going too fast. A mile or two down the road I
realized... there was no speed trap. I wasn't speeding. So why did
the other driver flash me? I took back my silent thank you. In fact,
I hoped he never received it.
I assumed it was a male because only a male would've done
something so arrogant. My husband would've assumed it was a woman,
because only a woman would have done something so daffy.
[to top of second column]
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 A few miles down the road, on a straight stretch of road, another
oncoming driver flashed me from well in the distance. He thinks I
have my high beams on, I thought. To show that I did not have my
high beams on, I quickly flashed him back, friendly-like.
The problem with high beams is that you cannot attach an emoticon
to them. The other driver did not think I was being friendly. In
fact, he thought I was being a smart aleck. It didn't occur to me
that if he thought my high beams were on before, flashing them
higher would've rendered him temporarily blind.
He evidently had been listening to hard rock because it was
definitely anger that motivated him to turn his high beams on full
and treat me to a blast of light not unlike the second coming of
Christ. I think he even had floodlights mounted on his roof to
enhance the apocalyptic experience.
Celine Dion, now crooning through my speakers, was not the right
accompaniment for this onslaught. I needed Queen, Kiss or the
Rolling Stones. In two beats of Celine's "My Heart Will Go On," I
turned off the calming music and embraced my inner Mick Jagger.
Almost involuntarily, my fingers flicked my high beams on full.
"Satisfaction" was playing at a bazillion decibels in my mind. If
I'm going to die, Mr. High Beams was going with me!
Squinting, as I drove through what looked like a red giant going
supernova on that dark stretch of road, it occurred to me that I was
definitely, categorically, unquestionably... stupid. That was the
blinding truth.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
