I’m not the best driver in the world; I’ll admit it, but I’ve probably had, however, more driver's training than 99.9 percent of the people on the roads. All of which has helped me recognize my limitations behind the wheel. Which makes me wonder how the twenty year-old kid that blew past me on the highway this afternoon; weaving in and out of traffic like a video game, knows his limitations? I’m pretty sure that he never attended a performance-driving course, so what makes him think that the world is his personal racetrack?
I struggle with understanding my rage at dangerous and inconsiderate drivers, those that put my family and I at risk because they believe they’re invincible. I understand that the problem lies within me, in other words, I’m the one that feels the anger, its my issue to grapple with. This is the great adventure of Zen, identifying life’s little snags and considering deeply the source of the emotions that they elicit. It’s a riddle or a kõan, something to be unraveled, deprogrammed; understanding then follows. The struggle continues.