Mad Rush

An essay reflecting on some thoughts I have while driving in rush hour traffic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mad Rush

 

It is rush hour in Indianapolis, Indiana. I make my way through the chaos, my blood pressure rising every time some idiot cuts me off, every time someone jams in front of me and slams on their brakes, every time another trucker pulls a stunt that should result in jail time.I shift a few gears then hit the brakes. I let out the clutch, shifting gears and hitting the brakes again. I hate rush hour! I am tired, I am stressed, and have had just about enough of these idiots driving as if they were the only ones on the road. Another trucker cuts me off. I grab the mic to my CB and shout, "WHAT THE F**K, YOU STUPID A*S! YEAH, YOU IN THE RED FREIGHTLINER. WHAT THE F**K YOU TRYING TO DO, KILL ME?!!!" I'm hot now. He tells me to f**k off and I think about tearing into him again, but keep my silence. What's the point? No matter how much I cuss, no matter how angry I get, no matter how many times I want to run them off the road to teach them a lesson, these drivers will continue to drive dangerously, with little regard for their own lives or the lives of others. I mull this over while I work my way around the "Circle", as I-465 is known around the Indy area. 

 

My thoughts drift to how much things have changed since I was a boy. It used to be that people were still somewhat courteous and friendly. Nowadays, most are rude, obnoxious and aggressively self-centered. Nearly everywhere I go, people are rushing around, frowns twisting their faces, betraying the frustration and anger beneath.I rarely see a smile or a friendly face. What has happened? Why is everyone so pissed off? Why do so many look like they will kill the next person who crosses their path? I have some opinions of my own, but no solid answers.

 

I think about how all this has affected me. Over the years, I have grown more and more frustrated. I am also more wary of others. I prefer to avoid those who look like they want to eat me for lunch, or at the very least, shoot me for looking at them. Nevermind the fool that is will run me off the road for the sake of getting the 65 feet or so I occupy on the freeway....I wryly conclude that maybe it's just me--I am the one going mad. Everyone else is perfectly sane. That's got to be it. Really.

 

It is rush hour in Indianapolis, Indiana as I make my way through the chaos, my blood pressure rising as I try to figure out how to cope with a world going mad.