Road Rage Greenfield Style

Growing up, my dad's step-father was always a bit intimidating. I'd heard stories of his hard drinking, yelling and general meanness. By the time I came along, Frank had mellowed out a bit, except when behind the wheel of his Chevy. Frank was always in the driver's seat, my grandmother sat in the back seat while their cocker spaniel, Mr. Crocker, rode shot gun. It seemed to me that the instant his butt hit that seat a stream of expletives would ensue. My personal favorite was always "jag-off!" I assumed that this behavior was a direct illustration of his angry and difficult personality. Then I moved back to Pittsburgh and bought a home in my Grandparents' neighborhood, Greenfield. Greenfield is known for its steep hills. I've heard tales of teenagers with their newly minted driver's licenses joy riding up and down these hills all in an effort to catch a little air. Also, the streets of Greenfield are narrow and few people have driveways. Cars park in any direction they please on both sides of the road. Sometimes, people park on sidewalks. This is all pretty standard in this neighborhood. Don't get me started on snow and ice, the weird traffic patterns and the conditions of the streets. After living here for two years I find myself not so quietly simmering when behind the wheel. "Why won't that person move over?" I holler when driving my kids to school. Not too long ago I had an epiphany. Maybe Frank wasn't all bad. Maybe a lifetime of driving in Greenfield had a Pavlovian affect on him when he hopped behind the wheel. I have observed this attribute in myself. And I am normally the kind of person who strives for compassion and thinks that our similarities as humans are more powerful than our differences. But not when I sit behind the wheel of my Mazda 5. During those moments I channel Frank and yell, with a smile "That Jag-off!".