Teaching New Tricks to Madd Dogs

Once a long time ago I was driving down a local street and I noticed an old man on the sidewalk angrily shaking his fist at me.

I was confused, since there wasn't much traffic and the guy didn't seem interested in trying to cross. I thought he was mouthing the words "Slow down!" but I wasn't speeding, which only confused me more.

For some reason, that angry old man shaking his fist has stayed in my head for years. It's hard to accept that a stranger is angry at you for a reason you can't understand or control. You can tell yourself that the problem is his, not yours, but it's still hard to accept that you unknowingly did something to upset someone so much.

I don't resent the man's anger. In fact, I've romanticized it over time and created many "maybe" stories about that incident. Maybe the man didn't like the speed limit in the neighborhood and this was his public protest. Maybe all the cars were going by much too quickly for his aging reflexes. Maybe God put that man there to remind me to tap on those metaphysical brakes once in awhile. Slow down. A more leisurely speed is safer, and more enjoyable.

Maybe someday I'll be an old woman standing along a street on which all the cars are going too fast. Will I be angry that I can no longer keep up? Will I feel compelled to warn them that life is wasted in the fast lane? Will I want to remind them to slow down?

I've realized that I don't want to become that person. Anger might be a memorable emotion but not a productive one in the end. If I want slower traffic, I'll post a fake road sign at midnight and laugh.

So who will you be when you grow up, and how fast will you go to get there?