Meeting Anger Head On

"What is wrong with him?" Tom said with alarm, which got my immediate attention. It was early yesterday morning, and we were driving back to North Carolina from Indy. For Tom, it had been a trip he had been looking forward to for months: Rusty Wallace race car driver one day, Moto GP (motorcycle races) spectator the next, and the remaining days spent riding his Harley and fishing. As for me, the trip started out well enough, but ended in disaster. Our intent was to stay until Saturday, celebrate my birthday with family and friends, and leave on Sunday. Instead we loaded Tom's kayak and motorcycle on to the trailer and left two days early.

"All I did was merge from I-465 to I-74. I did nothing wrong yet he's flailing his arms and yelling at me." I looked in the side mirror and saw a man in the car behind us waving his arms frantically. "Did you switch lanes and cut him off?" I asked. "No, I have stayed in the right lane the whole time." Then the man sped up and passed us going 90 mph. Cutting in front of us, he slowed down and began waving his arms back and forth again. "What could he possibly be mad about?" Tom said. The more the man exhibited his rage, the more confused Tom became. I wasn't in a good state of mind before we crossed paths with Mr. Road Rage, and his behavior brought out the worst in me. I met his anger with a little anger of my own and began waving my arms back and forth and vocalizing my displeasure with his antics. Tom--always a man of self-control and reason--reached over and touched my arm. I don't remember what he said but it was something like, "Let's not add fuel to the flames and make him madder," or "That behavior is not going to solve anything," or "Meeting anger head on with anger only makes things worse." 

Road Rage moved over to the fast lane, opened his passenger window, and slowed way down. Tom slowed down as well to avoid confrontation. He was calm. I was agitated. We did nothing wrong. Why is he taking his anger to such extremes? A fast moving car came up behind Mr. Rage and he moved back in front of us, and now his whole body (along with his arms) was waving back and forth. We were both going 40 mph. Cars were racing past us. I wondered how far this man was going to take his anger. Where would it all end? This man was really, really mad at us.

Post Road exit was a mile away, and I asked Tom to pull off so we could lose him. As we slowed down to make the exit, he slowed down too. He was anticipating our next move and was exiting with us. Oh, my. Not good. Not good at all. Then he abruptly pulled his car off the road and on to the shoulder, opened his window, stuck his head out and as we passed he yelled, "Your motorcycle is about to fall!"

Oh...