Road Rage

 There is nothing more exhilarating than being shot at without result.

                                                                                        Winston Churchill

Life’s to short for traffic.

 

There’s a new phenomena sweeping our nations highways. It’s being dubbed ‘road rage’ by police. Simply put , when some turkey cuts you off then proceeds to drive 45 mph in the fast lane you want to ....well, kill him...& his children, his dog & his grandparents. And that is exactly what’s happening on the fast paced, pressure cookers of freeways across the country. Between 1990 &1996 there have been 10,037 incidents, 12,610 injuries & 218 deaths attributed to ‘road rage’. That’s up 50 percent from the 5 years previous. According to the AAA...for what’s that’s worth. I personally experienced 10,000 instances of road rage on my last trip to Denver... but whatever...

 After an extensive study of the problem by one Dr.Leon James, Psychology Professor at the University of Hawaii....excuse me...just what in the world does a Hawaiian  Psychology professor know about ‘road rage’ & how in hell do these people get these jobs? 

 Anyway...Dr. James has determined that it isn’t really the roads fault, nor even the vehicle itself, but the problem lies,(get this now) in the drivers themselves!....WHAT?

 That’s right folks Dr. Leon says “The trigger of your anger is your own self-righteous indignation.”  WHAT? That really chaffs my butt...

 He goes on to say, “As soon as you remove that, you calm down.” Don’t tell ME when to calm down...Dr. Kahuna....

 So then our grass-skirted coconut brained Professor goes on to suggest that maybe you should tape record yourself on the way to work. “You’d be surprised what comes out of your own mouth.” Dr. Know-it All says.

 He’s right there, I am surprised at what comes out of my mouth.

Other hints he suggests:

1. Follow the laws of the road.

2. Don’t show a reaction.

3. Avoid Eye contact.

4. Reload......just kidding.

5. Listen to music. Obviously there are types of music not to listen to. For instance Gansta Rap & shooting somebody...anybody...goes hand in hand. Did you notice incidentally how drive by shootings & gansta rap were seemingly spawned together?

Now this Dr. Leon even has his own web site, www.aloha.net, & is known on the internet as Dr. Driving, so he must know what he’s talking about, so listen up when he tells us:

“While even mild-mannered people can blow their top behind the wheel, those with a hostile personality type are prone to get angry more quickly......” Pearls like this are why he’s the Dr. & your not. He then goes on to mention these types are also 7 times more likely to die of other health problems by the age of 50 than even-tempered people.

 Don’t you just want to rip this guys face off?

 So anyway the police have come up with an answer. Dial #77 on your cell phone & report an aggressive driver. Good idea that ought to smooth things out.

 Now I am not the sharpest tool in the shed but I have my own theory on this ‘road rage “ phenomena & it can be summed up in one word: Espresso Coffee.

 That’s right folks, we didn’t have a road rage problem before 1990 because you couldn’t get a decent cup of coffee in this country before 1990. Now there’s an espresso machine in every gas station in America & we simply can’t handle the stuff.

Take for instance a true story that happened to me just last week....

 The phone rang on Wednesday, it was Steven Speilburg. Said he had gotten hold of one of my stories, (The Island Of Ruling Women), said he wanted to make a movie of it. Said he was meeting with some of the ‘Big’ guys that had just flown in from the coast on Thursday. Could I be there?

 Sure, I said...after all, I had been waiting 5 years for this call.

My  plane left Gunnison at noon, plenty of time to make the 30 mile drive if I left at say...8:00 am.

 I brewed myself a couple of cups of Folgers Gourmet Supreme Dark Roasted before I left the house & headed down Whiterock....Road Closed...it said. I headed over to Elk...Road Closed it said. I detoured out to peanut lake forded the slate, sliced across Wanye’s horse pasture & cut back down 4th to Al’s Camp 4 Coffee Garden, threw back an espresso tinto & a double Mocha Latte,  headed down Sopris & ran a stop sign.

 Chief of police Tom Martin pulled me over.

“Church, you ran a stop sign.”

 “What stop sign? There hasn’t been a stop sign there for the 25 years I’ve lived here, where’d it come from?”

 “We just put it up an hour ago, your the 35th ticket  already....pretty good revenue that little sucker....tomorrow we’re gonna stick it alongside highway 135 have a nice day.”

 Cops make me nervous, so I stopped by Rays Espresso, & filled a large cup of a dark little brew called Sumatra Kenya Costa Rican house blend, ordered a small capachino & hit the road.

 One mile out of town a line of a thousand cars was just starting to move through Kiewit Const’s road project. I was the last in line. Suddenly the flag girl stepped in front of my car.

 STOP said the sign. I was feeling a little tense by then but she was to cute to kill...so I stopped.

 A backhoe pulled up & proceeded to dig a trench 20 feet deep, forty feet wide across both lanes.

 A couple hours later a culvert truck arrived from Denver. Biro set up his crane, started to unload the culverts into the ditch. I noticed the aspen trees had turned from green to gold.

 10 cement trucks pulled up & started to fill the hole.

 I noticed my hair was turning gray.

 The hole was half filled, when I finished War & Peace.

Waiting for the cement to dry I notice my fingernails were embedded in the steering wheel, my armpits flowing like Niagara. Maybe I should have cut up through Wyoming....

Finally the flag girl, who had aged considerably, waved us through.

 I tore of down the road, rounded the bend at Midway Morgan’s & there in the road ahead...was every Hereford on the western slope.

 Seems the annual Spann ranch cattle drive was in full stride. I slid to a stop on a thick layer of pasture pastries & bumped a broadside of beef.

 “HEY!” Yelled a mustachioed horseback cowboy “YOU PUNCH THAT DOGGIE?”

 “I didn’t punch no doggie.”I slurred...hard to talk now...Java jaw.

 For the next hour sitting eye level with a thousands cow butts I realized my life was turning to s--t.

 Finally I broke free from the herd & once again flew off down the road.

 A line of leaf peepers at Eagle view, I take em on the right nearly uprooting a mile of barb wire. Sheep peepers at Almont, take em on the left.

 Almont curves, next to the river, a fly caster on the back cast hooks my mirror, the rod rips from his hand & drags behind my flying truck...but only for a mile or so.

 Entering Gunnison now...OHMYGOD! Homecoming parade. PARADE RAGE. Swing right  Homecoming Queen float broke down, swing left , right left AIRPORT!!.

 I leap from the smoking Chevy just as the roar of a jet engine pushes United Flight 169 & my future off into the friendly skies.

 

 Guess I’ll be driving the Alpine bus again this winter. 10 hours a day on the road....

 Lookout.