The Jerk

Sometimes I can be a real jerk. I am one of the legion of drivers, mostly men I would suggest, who suffer from 'road anger'. It is not quite road rage but it is still very ugly and very unnecessary. Last night, my poor daughter was on the receiving end of one of these breakdowns in my capacity to reason. It left her in tears and left me embarrassed and ashamed.

It all started innocently, as these things almost always do. I had volunteered to drive Alex back to New York City after she had made a quick visit to us in New Jersey. She had a 6 PM class and we started our journey at 5 PM. Big mistake.

From the first, there were signs that this was going to be less than easy. As we struggled to cross the bridge and get to the East side, I decided to take the 178th Street exit, and make my approach to the Harlem River Drive through the streets of New York. You see, one of the lessons learned from years of driving certain routes, is that there is always a short-cut. While traffic may be at a standstill all around, you alone know a way to get to your destination on time.

I did manage this part of the trip relatively well and was on the Drive in short order. But, it was clear that I needed no further delays. I could tolerate no more deviations from the plan, or Alex would be late for class. Thus, internally at least, I began to escalate.

At 132nd Street, the bottleneck appeared. It was a crawl in front of me. I would now pull out another trick from my bag, exit the highway, take the side roads for about a mile, and emerge, unscathed, below all the traffic. Only I didn't. The streets of the city were tied up. Every turn I made only brought a different set of problems. I seemed always to be heading into another disaster.

As my ability to extricate myself from the mess was proven to be ineffective, my attitude and demeanor declined dramatically. My daughter was reading a book in the car that she was thoroughly enjoying. She was frantically trying to finish it on the way to her class, so she could pass it on to me to deliver to her mother. Alex was animated in her discussion concerning the premise of the story and how interesting it had been to follow the journey of the main characters. With my outbursts, cursing the decisions I had made in the car, I had created a stink in the vehicle. Alex put down the book and stopped talking.

When my tirade continued, not directed at Alex, but clearly implying some fault on her part, my daughter began to cry. It jolted me back to reality. What was I doing? What was I saying? What could possibly be so important that I had created this scene?

Alex told me she would never ask me to drive her into the city again. She was right. I wouldn't want to be in an enclosed area with this idiot if there was any other choice.

I have been a repeat offender of this type of behavior for many years. I have always 'gone off' for no purpose and to no end other than to hear myself rant. I have made those around me uncomfortable and unhappy. Yet once the moment passes, I brush off the incident and even take offense if someone questions my attitude.

After I dropped Alex off at her destination, I felt terrible. I wanted to continue the apology to her that I started the moment she began to cry. She had gotten out of the car without tears or anger, but my penance felt far from over. I knew she was going into class and would not emerge for at least 2 hours. The entire trip back to NJ was one marked with guilt. I felt like turning the car around, heading to her class, and bursting in to continue my mea culpa.

As soon as I got home, I asked Jo and Richie to 'text' Alex (yes, I am that limited), to announce my arrival at home and advise that my stupidity had no bounds. Soon thereafter the phone rang. Alex had gotten a break in the middle of her class. She was fine, all was forgiven. I told her that I would be right back to pick her up at the end of class to drive her home. She laughed in a way conveying that everything was ok, that she still loved me, and that I could have the privilege of being her father again tomorrow.

I hope I can learn a lesson. I want to take the worst parts of me and discard them, but this baggage is not so easy to unload. However, the next time I am in a traffic jam and about to dissolve, I will try my best to remember the events of last evening. If that doesn't stop me in my tracks, then I think you will have to consider me a lost cause.