Again with the yelling
There are an awful lot of people driving pickup trucks around here who think bicycles are supposed to be ridden only on the sidewalk. A few days ago, in almost the same spot where last week's "incident" took place, a guy in an orange pickup rolled down his window and leaned all the way across his front seat while driving by in order to shout at me, "GET ON THE SIDEWALK!"
As soon as he was clear of me, he steered to the right until he was driving right on top of the white line on the edge of the pavement, and zoomed away glaring at me in his rear view mirror.
Ever since it happened, the image of last week's Mr. Road Rage screaming at me has been burned into my brain. Maybe that's why I was able to stay relatively calm with the orange truck, instead of flooding with adrenaline and having the rest of the day poisoned by leftover anger and anxiety. Inside I felt a little blast of fear, but I let it pass. Outwardly I was able to just keep my lane and ignore the guy, which I think is a much better response than the one I had last week.
About that incident, several people have congratulated me on being "brave" enough to stand up for myself and confront the guy. I have not been feeling that way. Mostly, I've felt two things: 1) retroactive fear, once I realized how stupid it was to put myself in such close proximity to someone who'd just shown himself to be very dangerous, and 2) disappointment that in a moment when I had a chance to practice what I preach, I totally lost sight of my better self and reacted in a way that only amplified the violence and anger.
There's a slogan in the tradition I've been studying, "Be grateful to everyone." It's been on my mind a lot this week as I've been coming down from the adrenaline high and trying to clarify exactly what I would like to do the next time something like that happens. Which of course it will, in one way or another, eventually. Anyone who has any contact with other humans is going to experience conflict, and that guy in a way did me a favor by reminding me that it really doesn't work to stake my entire peace of mind on my ability to never clash with anyone. The result of that strategy is that my "dealing with it" skills have become so weak as to be next to useless when I need them most.
That guy could've flattened me. Whether he's a jerk or a psychopath or just a regular guy having a really bad day doesn't matter – a person driving in that state of mind is just as dangerous as a two-ton wild grizzly bear, and from now on I'm going to treat them the same. I've re-routed my commute to roads where that kind of encounter is less likely, and if it happens anyway, my plan is to get out of the way and off the road immediately, and stay there until it's safe to go on.
I'm choosing to think of this as "self-preservation" rather than "avoidance." Whatever you want to call it, the goal is to stay alive and safe and whole for as long as possible.
Which, if I'm able to achieve it, will mean I'll have future opportunities to practice dealing more constructively with anger – my own and other people's.
As soon as he was clear of me, he steered to the right until he was driving right on top of the white line on the edge of the pavement, and zoomed away glaring at me in his rear view mirror.
Ever since it happened, the image of last week's Mr. Road Rage screaming at me has been burned into my brain. Maybe that's why I was able to stay relatively calm with the orange truck, instead of flooding with adrenaline and having the rest of the day poisoned by leftover anger and anxiety. Inside I felt a little blast of fear, but I let it pass. Outwardly I was able to just keep my lane and ignore the guy, which I think is a much better response than the one I had last week.
About that incident, several people have congratulated me on being "brave" enough to stand up for myself and confront the guy. I have not been feeling that way. Mostly, I've felt two things: 1) retroactive fear, once I realized how stupid it was to put myself in such close proximity to someone who'd just shown himself to be very dangerous, and 2) disappointment that in a moment when I had a chance to practice what I preach, I totally lost sight of my better self and reacted in a way that only amplified the violence and anger.
There's a slogan in the tradition I've been studying, "Be grateful to everyone." It's been on my mind a lot this week as I've been coming down from the adrenaline high and trying to clarify exactly what I would like to do the next time something like that happens. Which of course it will, in one way or another, eventually. Anyone who has any contact with other humans is going to experience conflict, and that guy in a way did me a favor by reminding me that it really doesn't work to stake my entire peace of mind on my ability to never clash with anyone. The result of that strategy is that my "dealing with it" skills have become so weak as to be next to useless when I need them most.
That guy could've flattened me. Whether he's a jerk or a psychopath or just a regular guy having a really bad day doesn't matter – a person driving in that state of mind is just as dangerous as a two-ton wild grizzly bear, and from now on I'm going to treat them the same. I've re-routed my commute to roads where that kind of encounter is less likely, and if it happens anyway, my plan is to get out of the way and off the road immediately, and stay there until it's safe to go on.
I'm choosing to think of this as "self-preservation" rather than "avoidance." Whatever you want to call it, the goal is to stay alive and safe and whole for as long as possible.
Which, if I'm able to achieve it, will mean I'll have future opportunities to practice dealing more constructively with anger – my own and other people's.
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