Coexisting On The Road
I spent a couple days on the I-5 this past week in a tiny car. A truck weighing probably more than 10 times our car came within inches of our bumper while in the slow lane. We were traveling at the appropriate pace of traffic, the driver wildly waving their arm for us to get out of the way (and go where from the slow lane?) just for them to exit 30 seconds later. Cars weaved recklessly from lane to lane, barely ever using an indicator light before making sudden changes. Courtesy behaviors were rare and it felt like a fight to get into the necessary lane. We passed about 4-5 accidents within an hour and a half. Hostility was palpable. By the time the destination was reached, there was a collective sigh of relief. The release of true fear.
From the passenger seat, the thought came to me, This is a place where all of our deaths are near. Probable. Yet that seems to be the furthest thing from anyone’s mind.
Rather than treating the road as a way of interacting with collective safety and respect for one another, I was seeing a reflection of the ways in which we’ve been conditioned to get ahead. The implicit messages I was receiving were: get out of my way, everything is competition, you don’t matter, I don’t have time for this, go go go go go. I’ll check myself here and acknowledge that this might be a judgment call, as I have no real insight into the reasons that strangers rush, invade others’ space, and respond emotionally on the road. Even with my limited insight, though, I do believe that we act out our core beliefs on the road, that we discharge many of the feelings and messages that we receive in our personal lives, as well as from society, from behind the wheel.
Maybe this is connected, maybe it’s not, but this has me contemplating Matt Bernstein’s posts about a certain social media influencer who has been spewing messages of toxic masculinity, as well as the backlash that came simply from talking about it. The toxic messages in question center on the idea that one person’s dominance over another affirms them in their personhood and identity. And when that dominance (and, thus, identity) is threatened, the response is typically aggression. People say truly vile things online that they’d likely never utter in person, and I think that, similarly, people behave on the road in ways they normally wouldn’t if they were in a more personal, intimate setting. In response to Bernstein’s post, many folks have sent numerous “kys” messages, and, in a way, because reckless driving is so dangerous and potentially fatal, it feels like a similar kind of message when someone cuts you off or tailgates.
People much smarter and dedicated to this topic than me have asked the question of why we feel so out of touch with shared humanity when given a sense of anonymity. Similarly, psychologists have been studying road rage for a long time. As I was writing this, I typed “road rage” into Google and it gave me at least 3 suggestions for shootings or murders that have occurred in my area due to road rage incidents.
In a 1999 treatment trial led by Albany’s Center for Stress and Anxiety Disorders, approximately 30 participants who understood themselves to be aggressive drivers saw reduced anger and stress after being coached on relaxation, stress management techniques, and cognitive reframing. We have the experts, we have the statistics, we have a never-ending stream of information at our fingertips, and it comes down to trusting that, if stressed out, angry people want to change, it’s possible. It’s possible, of course, if access to treatment is possible. Which, of course, is its own topic, as the barriers for receiving appropriate care are many.
It’s not easy to admit to struggling with anger, and it’s even harder to reach out for actual support to deal with it. Anger is a natural emotion, and aggression is a natural response to threat. Where does balance get to exist between having the response, yet expressing it safely?
I don’t get to tell other drivers how to feel, what to do with their anger, or how to deal with urgency. At the same time, I dream of world where travel feels safe for everyone. No, not just safe. Safe is is the bare minimum. I dream of travel that reminds us all of how our care for others is often inextricably connected to our care for self, and that we respect this fact. I dream of a road trip where it feels like we’re all out here looking out for one another, even in the smallest gesture of letting someone merge.
Here is the small voice I hope you carry with you on the road: You matter. We are in this together. I am not in competition with you. I hope we both get to where we’re going safely. I hope that we may even get to listen to good music and enjoy the ride along the way. You are allowed to slow down. I may not know you, but I know that your life is important to me.
Journal Prompts
✶ What tends to be happening around me when I notice myself getting personally activated by the anger and rage of others? What is it that upsets me most about others’ displays of anger? Which displays feel acceptable to me and which ones feel unacceptable and why?
✶ What boundary-crossing and perceived threats make me the most angry? What is my anger telling me about what is important to me? When I’m angry, what am I needing?
✶ What role does urgency play in my life? When is it welcome, and when is it unwelcome?