I think perhaps the act of looking out at the rest of us through windows enables them to psychologically distance themselves.
Right first time. Road rage stems from the perception that someone else has invaded our personal space, that being the steel monster in which we've encased ourselves. Someone cuts you off, your response is on a visceral level, as if you've been violated instead of merely inconvenienced.
And the consequences for me, the humble motorcyclist? *shakes head*
I've been riding since I've been old enough to drive, and aside from a few close calls, I've been fortunate. *knocks wood loudly*
The trick is to remember that you not only have to do your job, but the jobs of all the asshats around you who aren't even paying attention to other cars, let alone a guy on a Harley.
Not without its risks, but the experience of riding makes it an equitable trade.
And I once had a hypodermic needle shoved into the glans of my cock.
When people drive they either 1) behave as though their body space has extended to a 15 foot radius (because it has, which is stupid), or 2) they act like cows.
True, though I meant certain contexts. Such as highway driving, as opposed to a more competitive parking situation--people cluster together like plains-herd animals. They do the same thing in fires when they get on their hands and knees to avoid smoke and then they die.
And I once had a hypodermic needle shoved into the glans of my cock.
Wretched mother of satan...and here I thought your entry was about driving cars. It was about driving alright, but more driving me over the edge than driving cars. What exactly should I not do so that I may avoid such an experience?
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This phrase has an interesting resonance.
And everyone on LJ is high-strung; there is no 'maybe' about this.
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I have a bad habit of not rereading my entries until AFTER I hit "post"...
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I think perhaps the act of looking out at the rest of us through windows enables them to psychologically distance themselves.
Right first time. Road rage stems from the perception that someone else has invaded our personal space, that being the steel monster in which we've encased ourselves. Someone cuts you off, your response is on a visceral level, as if you've been violated instead of merely inconvenienced.
And the consequences for me, the humble motorcyclist? *shakes head*
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I would love to own a motorcycle, but I also love the absence of paralysis and radical deformity.
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The trick is to remember that you not only have to do your job, but the jobs of all the asshats around you who aren't even paying attention to other cars, let alone a guy on a Harley.
Not without its risks, but the experience of riding makes it an equitable trade.
And I once had a hypodermic needle shoved into the glans of my cock.
Sweet Lucifer's fistula! What the hell for?
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But then, I extend the cow statement to people regardless of whether they are behind the wheel.
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I thought you said you never did crystal meth?
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Until it turned black.
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i couldn't let that one go...
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Wretched mother of satan...and here I thought your entry was about driving cars. It was about driving alright, but more driving me over the edge than driving cars. What exactly should I not do so that I may avoid such an experience?
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Easier said than done.
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