My Last Stronghold

Where Gratitude Grumbles

My daughter recently pointed out something about me.

I get frustrated in traffic.

This may not sound especially revealing, except that we live in a relatively small town without much traffic. I am very grateful for that. And yet, somehow, almost every time I get behind the wheel, another driver manages to give me something to talk about.

And I do mean talk.

I don’t honk at people, make rude gestures, or confront anyone. I don’t even get truly angry. Mostly, I get annoyed—and provide a running commentary from inside my car.

“You’re taking up my safety cushion. Get out of there, you jerk.”

Or:

“Sure, Grandma, you go first. I’m the one on the right, but since you don’t know the rules of the road, by all means—go ahead.”

And when a young driver speeds past me, weaving in and out of traffic, only to arrive at the same exit at the same time:

“Well, young whippersnapper, all that aggressive driving really paid off. Look at that—we arrived at the off ramp together.”

My son has just reached driving age, and my daughter is just reaching the age for riding e-bikes, so I like to tell myself that I am teaching them important lessons about road safety. Leave room between cars. Know the rules of the road. Remember that your choices affect the people around you.

My daughter sees it differently.

She says that when I talk about other drivers, I am spreading negativity. I am speaking it, feeling it, and bringing more of it into the world.

She has a point.

I've noticed that I make these comments when I am alone in the car, too. Apparently, I am also deeply committed to providing traffic instruction to myself.

Most of the time, I am forgiving and understanding. I try to consider what someone else may be experiencing before I judge the way they behave. But put me behind the wheel, and that awareness occasionally gets left somewhere back at the on-ramp.

Perhaps traffic is one of my last strongholds—the place where I still give myself permission to judge, complain, and say exactly what I am thinking, even when no one else is usually there to hear it.

I am aware of it now.

I will work on it.

But in the meantime, I thought I might give those thoughts somewhere to go.

Where Gratitude Grumbles

To the man in the white pickup truck with the huge tires:

Traffic was crawling, and there were about ten cars ahead of us waiting to merge onto the freeway. Apparently, you had somewhere to be.

As soon as the solid line became dashed- - - you revved your engine and gave a little waive as you sped around us,

Thank you. You have a great day, too!

We were all so impressed that we put your name in the hat for Best Driver of the Year.

You can take that anger with you today. I’m keeping my good mood.

Want more Where Gratitude Grumbles?

From here on out, my Grumbles will be living exclusively on Pinterest @ Where Gratitude Grows.

Look for toy cars, questionable driving decisions, running commentary, and my continuing effort to choose humor over letting a stranger ruin my good mood.

Where Gratitude Grumbles

You—and your occasional grievances—are always welcome here🌿