Tower, this is Freeway Leader, I’ve got a boggy on my tail that I can’t shake

It's called Road Rage and it can happen to anyone. You can be the victim as well as the perpetrator. There is no preference as to sex or age. My grandmother was a prime example; she learned to drive a car at age 50, so she was no youngster behind the wheel. She had learned to ride a horse as a kid; in fact she even would ride bareback. But a horse has some sense and will balk when pushed too far; a car will go even further than you wish. I remember my dear sainted grandmother and her experience with Road Rage. She could swear like a sailor (but only in German) if someone got their car too close to hers. She let them know, in no uncertain terms, how she felt and there was no doubt in my mind as I rode with her that she was pissed. A clenched fist was raised in the direction of her adversary (after she regained control of her car) and we resumed our ride.

Her grandson, me, had his own experience with the Rage earlier this week when he was cut off by someone who had misjudge the timing of exiting the freeway. I wound up abruptly moving off the road as he insisted that he must exit NOW. I began to follow him as his car turned this way and then that way. Let's just say that "followed" is a very loose interpretation of the word. I was GLUED onto his bumper. We were doing 85 mph on a road with a posted speed limit of 50 mph. I wasn't about to quit; I was going to give him the family's traditional clenched fist if I had to wave it in front of his nose.

I was running out of space on the speedometer and I think he was in fear of his life—and that's what I wanted. That's when I thought of Grandma. Did she go after her adversary to rub it in their nose? Well, no. Did she endanger everyone around her including her passengers just to prove a point? Of course not! What did she do? She went back to driving in a very orderly manner and showed me the lady that she was.

I dropped back, secretly hoping that I had chased him into a speed trap. I'm also going back into my memory to remember those German swear words, just in case something happens next time. It would be my luck to meet a linguist specializing in that language.

K.