Traffic Bonding Moment

Touching Traffic Bonding Moment

Have you ever shared a really awesome traffic bonding moment with a stranger? I was stuck in traffic one day. You know how it goes. One minute you are on the highway driving along at 60 miles an hour listening to Jay-Z and then the orange construction signs begin. Up to that point I was minding my own business. The fluorescent traffic cones narrowed the lanes to one, forcing folks to merge. I followed the suggestion and merged right, along with other law-abiding, like-minded citizens. Every so often one aggressive bastard passed on the left. You know the type: he has important business that can’t be delayed. He has somewhere he needs to be and his time is far, FAR more valuable than anyone else’s. His life sucks and he needs to discount that fact by speeding past everyone else in the queue, bearing down in the shoulder no less, in valiant proof that he’s not a schmuck like the rest of the putzes merging. Then, incredulously, he gets to the front of the line of cars and innocently puts his right blinker on trying to seduce some good Samaritan to let him cut in front of them in the line. I should turn the other cheek but it makes my blood boil. Traffic Dicks send me to an irrational place, though I’m not normally a road rage kind of girl. This particular traffic infraction, however, totally pisses me off.

I was stuck in traffic one day. You know how it goes. One minute you are on the highway driving along at 60 miles an hour listening to Jay-Z and then the orange construction signs begin. Up to that point I was minding my own business. The fluorescent traffic cones narrowed the lanes to one, forcing folks to merge. I followed the suggestion and merged right, along with other law-abiding, like-minded citizens. Every so often one aggressive bastard passed on the left. You know the type: he has important business that can’t be delayed. He has somewhere he needs to be and his time is far, FAR more valuable than anyone else’s. His life sucks and he needs to discount that fact by speeding past everyone else in the queue, bearing down in the shoulder no less, in valiant proof that he’s not a schmuck like the rest of the putzes merging. Then, incredulously, he gets to the front of the line of cars and innocently puts his right blinker on trying to seduce some good Samaritan to let him cut in front of them in the line. I should turn the other cheek but it makes my blood boil. Traffic Dicks send me to an irrational place, though I’m not normally a road rage kind of girl. This particular traffic infraction, however, totally pisses me off.

In response, I positioned my car half way in the right lane and half way in the shoulder to make it difficult, but not impossible, for some speeding asshole to pass me. A few minutes later the Subaru behind me started following my lead and positioned his car directly in the shoulder so that between the two of us, no one behind us could pass. I was pretty pleased with myself. For several miles, the Subaru and I thwarted the assholes from asserting their feigned dominance. We reduced them to common suckers, having to wait in line with the rest of us. Schmucks!

Finally, after several miles, the clouds parted, the sun came out, and the lanes opened up. The Subaru pulled up next to me and the driver gave me a traffic woody. He beamed at me with a fist-pumping hand gesture and smile as wide as the highway. We were The Traffic Dynamic Duo for three miles and it was BEAUTIFUL.