Confession 101: This morning, I found myself being that driver. Yes, the big a-hole one that you yell at, aloud or silently and wonder, what the hell is up their ass.

That was me.

First of all, I am going to start out with some defense points. Like … why, oh why, do some people get in the left lane and go 63 when the speed limit is 65? When I’m using the left lane, I’m hauling {which is rather frequently – I have a thing for fast, yet safe, driving}.

Just keep in mind, my idea of “fast” might be your idea of “slow” {Brother 2 hardly thinks I drive anywhere close to “fast”}.

I was beyond annoyed. Who the hell gets in the left lane and pokes along? A bad driver is who, I thought, as I’m aggressively tailgating. I know, real nice. I figured if I got on their ass, maybe they’d get the hell over.

Didn’t happen.

So I get over one, only to quickly speed up, pass slow driver and get back over in the left lane.

As I’m driving by, I actually said outloud {very loudly}: Dork.

Really rather pg, given my tastes. It’s what Gpa always called bad drivers. But he said it in this really funny voice. Which I’ve now taken on. Can’t let that tradition fade.

It was all those dorks, that put me in check.

WTF was I doing? Getting all bent out of shape by someone I didn’t think was driving fast enough?

I could literally feel the tension and tightness … this rush I was suddenly in, when what … maybe I’d get to my destination point five minutes later? When that five minutes doesn’t even matter.

Why do I get so caught up like this? It’s just some made up thing I’ve bought into — this having to get somewhere quickly and why the slowness, etc etc.

It’s just a story I was telling myself.

When the real story is that I want to relax in the car. I want it to be a safe haven, where I have great music playing and I can be in my own little world, wrapped up in my own big thoughts about happy things, like France and my fine piece of a BF.

Where I’m not in a frantic rush and I don’t get caught up in aggressiveness that isn’t really in my nature.

This is one of the great things of catching yourself being such an a-hole. Not only is it of a great, personal entertainment value, but it’s a nice reminder that you are, at some point, that which you can’t stand.

We find ourselves complaining about others and what they do, yet, don’t we inevitably, at some point, do the exact same thing?

Acceptance, baby. It all comes down to it. Accept everyone as they are with no preconceived attachments to it.

That and just know that you, too, at some point will be the a-hole. There’s a nice  thought to leave you with.