Those who know me are keenly aware of my opinion of Washington drivers. Those who’ve ridden with me are keenly aware of how I drive.
I have a growing concern about the person whom I become when I get behind the wheel of my truck. All the virtues I attempt to cling to and live out in my life get left in the parking lot: patience, selflessness, forgiveness, mercy, and charity for my fellow man. I don’t know what happens, but it’s some type of Hyde-ian transformation into a foul-mouthed heathen hurtling down the highway. It mystifies me how I can make this radical change with barely a conscious thought. I’d like to think the explanation — notice I did not say excuse — is because of my perception that the collective Washington Driver is a failure at being a confident and competent driver. It is very frustrating for me, and to face this collective failure twice a day Monday through Friday may have taken its toll.