Driving a car
How do you behave in traffic?
- Choleric people seem like puppy dogs against me.65%
- Nothing and no one can take away my good mood.26%
- I don't drive a car myself!9%
The competition has ended.
"Get off the road, you ****!"
6.12.2018
Translation: machine translated
Some take it in their stride, some get angry and then there's me. I break all the dams when I'm driving.
The traffic lights change from amber to green. Finally drive on. But no, I'm still stationary. Because the car in front of me doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry. He's still looking for the accelerator pedal, which he should have pressed down long ago. Too much for me! My pulse skyrockets, my eyes narrow: "Drive, you idiot!"
From sanguine to choleric in four seconds
When I'm driving, all my synapses burn out. Like an active volcano, I spew tirades of rage. Every little thing immediately sends me into a rage. The offences committed by other drivers are out of all proportion to my rage. If someone comes even slightly into my lane, I wish that person had never been born. Nobody is safe from my rage: Sunday drivers, tailgaters, non-indicators, eternal indicators. I find my victims everywhere. My emotions run high and I lose all control over them. "Never mind, no one can hear," I justify my outbursts internally.
I have my reasons
Where does this completely antisocial behaviour on the road come from? It's the supposed anonymity. Nobody knows me, nobody hears me. My car is to trolls what every comment column in the country is to me. That's where I can really take the piss out of everyone and everything. I often leave political correctness far behind me. But you're still allowed to say that.
Then there's also the time pressure - whether imaginary or real. I have a bad habit of leaving the house at the last minute. Flea markets just don't fit into my concept. That's why I would never drive to work. You won't win any popularity awards in the office with a bright red head and frown lines on your forehead. But even when I'm travelling on the roads without a fixed appointment, I tend to have a lead foot. I like travelling fast, I hate waiting. It robs me of valuable time. Therefore, anyone who causes me to wait is a thorn in my side. Patience is a virtue, but definitely not mine.
A not inconsiderable part of my verbal aggression probably also stems from the fact that I like to swear. I use swearing in both a positive and negative sense. They free me from the constricting costume of mindful speech. I was never good at egg dancing. It's too exhausting for me to constantly think about everyone's emotional state. My censorship filter works far too unreliably for that. So, "fuck it!"
Who issued you with a driving licence?
The explosive mixture of anonymity, waiting and a certain love of expletives turns me into a little monster. Like a werewolf under a full moon. In my anger bubble, and sometimes outside of it, I don't understand how some people can be allowed on the road. The gentleman who sticks to the left at 80 km/h on principle ("It's called maximum speed, not minimum speed")? Get out! The lady who keeps braking abruptly because a red light flashes 1.5 kilometres ahead? Get out! Just get everyone out who is obstructing me in any way.
It doesn't sound like someone who describes themselves in this way should get behind the wheel. Attributes such as "calm", "composed" or "prudent" should come to mind for a driver rather than "totally bonkers". But I drive really safely - until now. After all, my aggressive behaviour is limited to verbal affronts. I don't drive up to the bumper, nor do I speed past on the right. That's where I draw the line. I also draw the line when other people - like my friend - display the same behaviour. Then I find it unnecessary and embarrassing. Well, all animals are the same, but some are more equal.
My life in a nutshell? On a quest to broaden my horizon. I love discovering and learning new skills and I see a chance to experience something new in everything – be it travelling, reading, cooking, movies or DIY.
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