Most of the time I’m sugar, spice and all things nice, writes blogger Emma Suddaby. But sometimes I lose my cool, and it’s usually when I’m behind the wheel. Yes, I suffer with road-rage.
In my defence, there’s much to rage about on our roads, with all the cameras and the taxes.
But the thing that really gets my goat is all the other drivers!
You see, it comes down to manners; courtesy; the art of being polite. There are three words for it, in case anyone’s forgotten.
Take this particular evening. I’m driving through the filthy night, rain lashing, wipers on turbo, squinting to decipher wet, black road from wet, black night, when the glow of an oncoming car appears around the bend. I fumble to dip my headlights before it appears, to avoid dazzling him, and I wait for the answering dip as he returns the courtesy.
It never happens, and helplessly I watch him round the corner, full-beam . . . BAM! Night-vision obliterated. Well, cheers.
Dipping our headlights in time is a common courtesy, as much in our own interests as anyone else’s. But the majority are just too selfish to bother, particularly knowing they’ll never have to face their victims.
But let me offer you a cautionary tale. A friend was driving through Shrewsbury recently when she got stuck in a traffic-jam. A lorry, coming out of a junction six or seven cars in front, was using both sides of the road to turn. The road being narrow and busy – and the lorry being long, slow and articulated – meant cars in both directions had to wait while he manoeuvred. Most, like my friend, were happy to wait, but there’s always one, isn’t there?
This time it was Boy-Racer, in a souped-up chickmobile at the front of the queue, (though it could easily have been a salesman or someone in a mid-life crisis), ranting, and blasting the horn . . . like it could make any difference.
So Chickmobile’s almost bouncing up and down with impatience, when, suddenly, the lorry stops with a hiss of air-brakes. The cab door opens and the man-mountain of a driver, a whole career of Yorkie-eating behind him, jumps out. The traffic-jam collectively hold their breath, as he stomps up to Chickmobile and taps on the window.
Boy-Racer winds it down, and lorry-driver, with deceptive turn-of-speed, reaches in and snatches the ignition-keys.
Chickmobile splutters and dies, lorry-driver, offers Boy-Racer some advice on his lack of patience, then turns and throws the keys over a fence and far away. He leaves Boy-Racer to suffer the irony of sitting, alone, in his stationary car, at the head of an ever-growing, angry tailback, watching the lorry drive off into the sunset.
Karma in action, though even for karma, that’s quick. So, next time you’re tempted to be less than polite to another driver, safe in the knowledge that you’ll soon be far away, show some consideration – before karma catches up with you.
Inspirational Emma Suddaby shares her ” highs, lows – and various murky places inbetween” – with her weekly blog. Emma, a finalist in the 2007 Shropshire Star Woman of the Year competition, was diagnosed with aggressive, destructive rheumatoid arthritis at the age of 22. She has since won a dream flying scholarship with the charity Flying Scholarships for the Disabled and is now training for a National Private Pilot’s Licence.
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