A Guy

This is why I don't rent a car when I go visit my mom in Florida....

A man died tonight. No one famous, you never heard of him. You didn't know anything about him, in fact, he couldve just been a tourist from out of state. He was just some guy who made a miscalculation on the highway. Of course, with all the construction, he might have been confused. He might have been a little disoriented by the cryptic road signs and distracted by the construction equipment everywhere. Maybe he was being overly careful, but to him, blinking lights meant "proceed with caution." It was a dark stretch of road, the lane markers were ambiguous, and there was a lot of traffic - angry traffic. Cars entering the highway jostled for position, each determined to gain as much ground as possible. Even though, they didn't have the right-of-way, they were sneaking around on the shoulder. When they were out of shoulder room, these cheaters were forced back onto the congested roadway, but they didn't want to merely "merge." They wanted to pass as many cars as possible before they were obliged to get back in line. Meanwhile those with the right-of-way, incensed by the blatant audacity, weren't willing to give up any advantage without a fight. In a kinder, gentler nation, drivers in the right lane alternate with the merging traffic in a "share-the-road" sort of courtesy. Not so on the roads of South Florida, much to the misfortune of the man who died.

The man who died tonight had always been a defensive driver; he knew driving on the highway could be a traumatic ordeal, but he accepted the fact and tried to keep his cool. He didn't turn into Mr. Hyde when he got behind the wheel. He always allowed a few of those pushy shoulder-drivers to cut in front of him, hoping someday, someone would do the same for him. He always left a little extra room between the front of his Toyota and the car ahead - why not? What's another 15 feet? But on this night, unbeknownst to the man, he was infuriating the guy in the white van behind him. Every time another shoulder-pusher was allowed in, the angrier the van driver became.

As the man who died drove, he periodically placed his hand on the white box next to him. Looking ahead, he saw brake lights, so he took his foot off the accelerator and placed it gently on the brake. Just slightly - not enough to slow down, as he still had a reasonable amount of room in front of him, but enough to make his brake lights flash. This was the final straw for the van driver. For some reason, he saw those brake lights as a challenge. For some reason, he sped up. As he did, the man in the Toyota, transfixed by horror and disbelief, watched as the headlights behind him closed in on his rearview mirror. Like an animal caught on a deserted country road at night, body frozen in the heat of the murderous headlights, the man could not look away.

His eyes were locked on those of the man in the van behind him, so he didn't see the one last shoulder-driver. Speed Racer in a red Chevy 2-ton hurled past him, swerving into the careful space reserved in front of the Toyota. Time slowed, and then stopped as the man pulled his eyes away from the rearview mirror just in time to read the bumper sticker on the truck in front of him. IF YOU'RE CLOSE ENOUGH TO READ THIS, YOU'RE TOO CLOSE - BACK OFF. He tried. Honest to God, he tried. Both hands gripping the steering wheel, his foot slammed the brake to the floor. The box on the seat next to him flew to the floor and as he reached out to catch it, the lights on the van overtook the Toyota; consumed it, and as one, they plowed into the back of the red truck.

That's when traffic really snarled up. Horns blared, angry voices shouted obscenities, sirens echoed under the bridges. Time resumed its sodden pace, and everyone was late. "Damn idiots" and obscenities galore shouted as they drove past the heap of twisted metal.

A man died tonight. No one you knew. You never heard his name and his passing will have no effect on your life. But next time you're caught in traffic and your car is overheating, on your way to the dentist; next time you're late picking up your mother from the airport; next time you just want to get home after another rotten day at the job - next time, think about the man who died tonight. His car won't overheat anymore. In fact, there aren't even enough pieces of it left to send to the junk yard. His last contact with his dentist will be via the county coroner, who will request his records for identification purposes. His mother will have to take the Super Shuttle next time.

The man who died had friends, a family, but he won't be home for dinner tonight. Maybe he was married, maybe he had children. His family will wonder what's happened, where's daddy...and then the phone rings. Someone will have to clean his desk out at work, and a want ad will have to be run to replace him, jury selection will have to begin again to fill his spot, someone else will have to return those overdue library books and pay that parking fine. Hopefully, those tickets to Paris he just bought are refundable. And just what was in that box he tried to save from destruction? Was it a cake for his three year old daughter's birthday? Was it a silk nightgown for his girlfriend? Was it a report outlining a cure for AIDS? Maybe it was a painting he was taking to his first exhibition, or cookies for a friend in the hospital.

So, the next time you're in such a rush and feel the need to ignore the rules of the road; next time you feel like screaming and pressing both hands on your horn in frustration; next time you tail-gate the person in front of you, as if that will speed traffic up, next time you flip off the police cars and ambulances clogging up the highway, remember the man who died tonight ...and thank your lucky stars it wasn't you or someone you love...this time.