Tag Archives: road rage

Yoga Bitch

Last year I was on my way to yoga, taking my time just cruising down the road.  A car appears out of nowhere and is now riding my ass.  I couldn’t see who was in the driver seat, I assumed it was some kid with a new license, driving their parent’s car with a lead foot.  I’m not gonna lie, that makes me wanna just put on the breaks and crawl to my destination.  And that’s what I did.

I was in a residential area, kids everywhere, and this person was STILL riding my butt.  I actually said out loud, “this person REALLY needs Yoga”!  Now if you are trying to get to your house because you need to tell your relative goodbye before they board the bus to heaven, I understand.  I really do, but seriously how often does that happen?  You aren’t rushing to have a baby in your neighborhood, you’re on your way to the hospital.

So where’s the fire?

I’m still draggin my ass through the quiet area and finally make my turn onto the private road where Yoga was being held.  I glance up in my rear view mirror expecting to see the car speed rapidly down the road away from me, and it didn’t.  It stayed glued to my bumper.  I started to freak a little bit.  Was this a bad case of retaliation road rage?  I decided to peruse the parking lot, driving through the upper lot with lots of empty parking spots and then turning down into the lower level lot with just a few spaces left.


I pull into a space and they pull in to the left side of me.  I’m thinking something is going to go down here, so I reach over to grab my cell phone, and I’ve got the 9 and 1 pressed.  Out of the corner of my eye I see a person busily grabbing things on their passenger seat, so I brave it up and look over.  It’s a woman grabbing her Yoga mat and exiting the car with that and a gun  water bottle.

Had ya going there didn’t I?

I grabbed my mat and bottle and rushed to get out of my car, taking a quick second to check out something large in the back seat of her car.  She had Vacation Bible School signs!  What the WHAT?

She practically ran ahead of me to get into the building.  I later found out that she was an administrative assistant at a local church.


Why on earth would she want to ride me so closely going to Yoga? We weren’t even late.  I tried to find an area far away from that crazy bitch which I did, but still couldn’t recover from the scare of impending doom, aka being pushed off the road by a maniac in a ratty old Toyota corolla.  I did Yoga for 75 minutes and my breathing never got to Pranayama. That’s yoga code for controlled breathing.  Never got there.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of the tiny woman who put the fear of God in me just minutes from my house.  My life flew past my eyes as I white knuckled the steering wheel.  She exited the class without any sort of acknowledgement to me and she was gone as fast as she arrived.

I can remember it like it was yesterday but it was almost a year ago.  Until a few weeks ago when she arrived at my Zumba class.  Seriously?  Like she needs more aggression?  Try as I might to move away from her position on the dance floor, she was right beside me.  As I inspected this woman head to toe, she seemed harmless.  Short lifeless hair and a pair of glasses circa the early 2000’s.  She was all of 5′ tall and was wearing sensible, boring clothing.  She obviously didn’t recognize the woman who she scared the shit out of a few months earlier.

We proceeded to warm up and there were quite a few people in class.  Zumba is no different from a gym in January.  High hopes and goals to be more fit for the coming year.  It eventually dies down to about half capacity, but today it was packed.  And speedy gonzales was erratic.  It turns out that Yoga is perfect for this woman, because SHE HAS NO RHYTHM. Absolutely none.  She couldn’t tap to Old McDonald if her life depended on it.  So as I was counting steps, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, she was all over the place.  At one point she was SO close to me that she was about an inch and a half from my bad foot.  I had to stop and take two steps back, while she was still absorbed with her flailing arms and legs.  She wasn’t stopping for nothing.  I had to give it to her, even though she didn’t have a single ounce of rhythm, she kept going.  Apparently you can work up a sweat doing random movements.  Skill-less, beat deaf movements.

Who knew?

Please enjoy this favorite that actually works in Yoga as well….but please don’t jump in your car with a rage-filled foot and run someone off the road.



Road Rage

Hi my name is Robin and I have Road Rage.

Hello Robin….welcome to RRA (Road Rage Anonymous)

Wouldn’t it be cute if I could come up with a cute name for it that had the initials RRARRRR!

I would have to say that 90% of my driving time is spent wondering why I’ve been unlucky enough to be driving behind someone who obviously doesn’t have to be anywhere soon.  I’ve driven to work following an older person who drives 5-10 miles under the speed limit.  I’m assuming that they’re on their way to a 9am doctor’s appointment and since it’s only 7:45am, they have LOT OF TIME to get there.  They’ll walk into the office and expect to be seen as soon as they arrive, even though their appointment is not for another 45 minutes.  I’ve seen it so many times.

This morning I was driving my almost 13 year old son to school with a project that wouldn’t fare well on the school bus.  I decided to go another route since their was a school bus turning onto my normal road route.  I get behind a black SUV that obviously had no intention of traveling the suggested speed limit. My soon to be teenager asks me to pass them.  On a windy road not passable by even Jeff Gordon in his race car.  For a moment I start to think about the fact that in just 3 short years, my son will be behind the wheel of whatever vehicle I’ll be fortunate enough to own.  I’m a bad influence on his driving future.   Luckily the car turns off a few yards before my turn onto the school road, but just as I’m preparing to turn onto said road, a little pick me up truck turns before me, proceeding to travel 10 miles below the speed limit.  My son wants me to “ride his ass”.  I now know that I’ve made a lasting impression and I will reap what I sow in a few years.  I quickly state that I read somewhere that God puts these slow, annoying bastards in my way to save me from some tragedy that might have occurred had I had been traveling at the speed of sound like I normally do.  I’m trying to not only cut my losses with this kid but also maybe embed some sort of philosophy about things that happen “for a reason”.  One can never know what’s gonna stick in a child’s mind and what isn’t.  I’m positive that my driving skills have made an impact on him, and not for the better.

This isn’t the first time that I’ve made an effect on one of my children.  My oldest son got to experience me passing a car on a road that I had no business doing that on.  I believe he was just short of driving age or maybe he had his permit to drive.  That was too many years ago to remember, but every now and then he brings up the episode, so I know I made a memory for him, albeit a bad one.

Fast forward and I’m pulling into the school parking lot to drop of my little future speed demon and I see a line of cars, none of them moving very much.  Deep breath, Rob, deep breath. Is there a child finishing his breakfast in the front car?  Can he get his clarinet out of the trunk any faster?  So being the road raged impatient mom behind the wheel that I am,  I pass the other calm, tolerant moms and dads and head to the front of the line.  It’s a good thing people can’t actually shoot daggers from their eyes, because I would probably look like swiss cheese right now.  And then the inevitable guilt sets in.  I start to second guess my actions, but it’s too late now.  I’m the asshole car driver that thinks they’re better than everyone else.  That’s not true, but it kinda resembles my sentiment.  A little.  I’m not better, just more advanced at expeditiously dropping my child at school.  Sounds better doesn’t it?

After I leave the school going the required 15mph in the school zone, which by the way is the almost the only sign I completely agree is not just a suggestion like the other speed limit signs are, I get behind another bus.  And then a triaxle truck carrying an over sized load of dirt. Count to 10 Rob….thank goodness I finally get behind a girl that I work with who has a lead foot like me and we virtually FLY into work, gliding gracefully at a comfortable speed of 55mph in a 40mph.

I feel like there are people who realize I’m in a hurry and just say to themselves, “too bad, I’m gonna drive as slow as I want and you can’t do anything about it”.  It’s a power thing.  In fact, I’ve actually thought that myself.  I’ve been coasting along at at a pleasant speed 10 miles above the “suggested” speed limit and somebody is close enough to my back bumper to give it a kiss.  I look in the rear view mirror and say, “too bad, I’m not going any faster”.  So I’ve been there, done that, just not when I’m driving 10 miles UNDER the limit, not that I ever have, heehee.   Arrogance is alive and well, even on the road.

I know that after I publish this blog, I’ll probably be pulled over at some point in the near future for speeding.  The fact that it hasn’t happened yet is an incredible fete.  *knocking on the proverbial wood*  I don’t know how I’ll adjust if and when that happens.  I don’t try to drive recklessly or without care.  I may have just been a French race car driver in my past life.  French only because I love the language.

Will I eventually be one of those senior citizens traveling at a snails pace on my way to my 9am doctor’s appointment?  I hope not, but only time will tell.

Until then, “Gentlemen, start your engines…”