HONK

“HONK!”

I raised an eyebrow as I glanced in the rear view mirror. There was an SUV behind me, and it was growing increasingly louder.

“HONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK!!!”

The man in the vehicle passionately slammed on his horn, while yelling what I could only assume were words he wouldn’t say in front of his mother.

To be fair, the green turning light was blinking as I sat motionless in my car. He must have been utterly perplexed as to why I was choosing to remain stationary as the precious opportunity to turn left down a busy highway slipped through our fingers.

What he did not see, I’m assuming, was the bright red, screaming fire truck that was barrelling towards us. Turning left would mean putting myself directly in its path, but this did not seem to deter the enraged man behind me from performing his antics.

Once the sirens had passed and it was safe to turn, he quickly overtook me, screaming as he sped by. His face was contorted with rage.

As swiftly as his anger arose, it bubbled up inside me. “He was wrong!” I said out loud to Jerry, who, although sympathetic, could not fully grasp the human condition since he has four legs and a tail. As I quietly replayed the two minute event over in my head, I felt myself growing angrier. “The nerve of that guy!” I muttered, as Jerry took in the fresh air from the open window.

I pulled into the garage and took a breath. I had seen that anger before while driving, just the day before. That time, however, it was coming from me. I was driving down a street close to home, venturing out on a Sunday afternoon, when the car in front of me was driving at twenty kilometres below the speed limit. At first I was patient, but as the minutes passed, I felt my jaw tighten. At this point I had a long line of cars behind me, and I could see the frustration of the person in my rear view mirror that I was not alone in feeling this way.

Just as I was about to honk, out of both anger and in perplexity of their poor driving, I caught a glimpse of who was behind the wheel.

A young girl, maybe sixteen, looked absolutely terrified. Beside her, it looked as though someone were giving her instructions. 

She was learning to drive.

My heart softened. 

I had let the opportunity for patience slip right through my fingers. Instead, I was enraged that someone dared to drive much slower than the posted speed limit. It was another “they’re wrong, I’m right” situation, and I had let my feelings of righteousness empower my anger. 

When I saw who was behind the wheel, I felt empathy. Twenty years ago, that was me. Although I was driving a ‘97 Windstar and it was my mother slamming on the invisible breaks in the passenger seat as I sped around our neighbourhood, I too was once the terrified new driver.

I wish I could have let the long line of cars behind know that it was okay. They didn’t have to be angry. They didn’t need to feel “right”. They didn’t have to honk or shake their fists at the poor girl. They could take a breath. They could imagine themselves ten, twenty, thirty years ago, sitting in the driver's seat for the first time as they felt the intimidating power of being in control of a large machine on four wheels.

So next time, in traffic, whether I am on the receiving end of anger or I feel it towards someone else, I’ll take a second to remember we’re all just trying our best. I will take in a breath of patience and breathe out goodwill, for it’s better to be engulfed in love than consumed with rage.

Except if you’re texting while driving. Then I’m honking.