2018, my first day back in the country. Banora Point, Tweed Coast.
The lights turn green and I accelerate around the bend towards the on-ramp to the M1. When I reach the highway a few hundred metres away I’m at the 100kph speed limit. I check my mirrors, the coast is clear and I zipper into the traffic. Suddenly the noisy car that’s been coasting behind me revs around me into the busy fast lane, beeping his horn. I check my blind spots and recheck my mirrors. I have no idea what the problem is.
As the car comes level with me, the young driver leans forward and looks directly at me. Steam is coming out of his ears and he jabs his middle finger up and down in the air in front of his nose. I can’t hear him of course but I can see the fs flying from his mouth, and then he takes off. I’m still doing the speed limit and can honestly say I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s the first sign of any aggression I’ve encountered in a long time and my gut feels like it’s been punched.
A whacko, right? Or maybe his wife is giving birth somewhere. Or is it normal for a guy to be so impatient and so rude. Whatever the reason, I guess he felt I hadn’t gone fast enough, quickly enough.
“Hi Australia,” I say aloud, to nobody. “Thanks for the lovely welcome home.”
2019, my first week back in the country. Bermuda Street, Gold Coast.
The lights turn green. I put my foot down steadily because there’s no point crashing into the tail end of the car in front of me. In the car behind me, a young guy honks his horn.
Now in Asia, beeping your horn is a sign of courtesy. People beep and honk all the time to let others know their position and movement, it’s a communication for safety reasons.
In Indonesia, even though new tourists think the traffic is chaotic madness, it is actually fluid and logical and courteous once you get the hang of it, despite the incessant beeping.
But on this day on the Gold Coast, when I look into my rearview mirror to see the honker, I see a face that’s anything but courteous.
Trying to show nonchalance, I calmly hold my hand up, open palmed. A theatrical shrug. I catch his eye in the mirror and keep my face soft. “What can I do?” I ask the mirror. “There’s a car in front of me.”
As we drive through the intersection, the driver swings out behind me and once again, as he passes, this guy turns and gives me the finger. The finger! To a woman old enough to be his mother.
“Hi Australia,” I say to the sky. “Lovely to be back again.”
2021, my second day back in the country. Logan Motorway, Brisbane.
I’m cruising along at the 100kph speed limit in the fast lane, overtaking the cars in the slow lane. I come behind a 4WD loaded with people, a P-plate on the back, and the driver sitting on 80.
“Eeek.” I smile to myself. “Not ideal, dude, but never mind.” (I do talk to myself a lot.)
He doesn’t shift over so I decide simply to move into the slow lane and overtake the young driver. He seems to be nervously gripping the wheel. Maybe it’s the first time he’s chauffeuring his entire family on the highway.
Next thing, a nice SUV comes speeding up in the fast lane behind the P-plater, tailgates him, horn blaring, then slips into the slow lane behind me to overtake him, and swerves back into the fast lane right in front of him.
The SUV driver then slams the brakes. Literally. I mean what the? Shocked, I do a double take and look over my shoulder. Would you believe, the driver is a well presented woman in her 30’s or 40’s, wearing a suit, and she too is poking her middle finger up to her rearview mirror. She’s yelling; going off at the mirror. And still driving ridiculously slow.
“What the hell!” I say to myself, flabbergasted. My idea of the road-rage stereotype being a testosterone overdosed guy with attitude is crushed. Eventually the woman speeds up and as she passes me I look across to share my what-the-hell dismay, but she doesn’t even see me. She’s still mouthing off, so consumed by her anger, self-righteousness and indignation, she’s in another place entirely.
My jaw is on my chest. My heart has sunk down to the floor in front of me.
“Hi Australia,” I mumble to the steering wheel. “Thanks again for the lovely welcome back.”
——————
I’m blessed to live on an island where there’s no motorised vehicles at all. The only traffic jams here are when a herd of cows walks along the road. Bicycles and horse-carts are the means of transportation. I imagine the jingle of the bells on the carts and the clip-clop of pony hooves to be the soundtrack of roads and villages in years gone by.
Perhaps I’ve become overly sensitive. Perhaps I’m coming back to ‘civilised’ society with the eyes of an outsider.
But I used to drive 50,000 kilometres a year when I was working in Oz and I don’t recall seeing this type of rudeness.
And I know there’s incidences of much more serious road rage than these little stories. And perhaps it’s no big deal in the big scheme of things. I certainly didn’t let it ruin my day.
But, is it really not a big deal in the big scheme of things?
“This is where our obsession with going fast and saving time leads.
To road rage, air rage, shopping rage, relationship rage,
office rage, vacation rage, gym rage.
Thanks to speed, we live in an age of rage.”
Carl Honore
In the cities of Bali and Lombok, I’ve never seen such attitude. Even macho dudes on motorbikes-on-steroids, the ones who take any chance they can to overtake dangerously on open roads, don’t get aggro with other drivers. I think perhaps people in the ‘east’ are endowed with a more peaceful inner spirit and respect for others, especially those older than them? I’m generalising I know, but honestly, in the busy traffic of cities here, I haven’t seen such entitled aggressiveness. In fact I see the opposite. Even when a car double parks on a busy road, the other inconvenienced drivers just sit back and chill while they wait. I’ve had drivers explain to me that the double-parked driver must really need to park there to unload, and he’ll come back in good time.
Some of you might say, yeah ok, so they’re chilled drivers, but have you ever seen how they jump the queue? You’d be right, Indonesian people absolutely can not line up. But from what I’ve learned, it’s like they feel the person doing the pushing-in must genuinely be in more of a hurry than they are, so that’s cool. Or if the pusher-innerer does not have a genuine need to be somewhere fast, then karma will deal with her later. Sure there’s no fast lanes and slow lanes and lights and lines and rules, but they don’t let stuff fluster them. And the pusher-innerer doesn’t give others the finger. ‘Pelan pelan’ and ‘sabar’ are the every-day mottos here: slowly-slowly and be patient.
What’s happening to the ‘western world’? People seem to carry so much anger inside them. Fuses seem to be getting shorter and shorter. Those three incidents on the road weren’t the only examples I saw in my short visits. I started to think reactive and rude behaviour was almost a part of the everyday landscape.
Talking with Gus about it, he likened it to social media. Those angry drivers who insulted me are like faceless keyboard warriors. It’s so easy to rant or to speak out of line, or to give the finger, when you don’t personally know the audience receiving your message.
The same can be seen in cities or supermarkets or beach walkways, as the entire flock of people walk along in a hurry. Even with everyone on their phones or talking into their earbuds, they don’t notice where they are. They bump into each other, they get impatient when someone blocks their way, they don’t notice the environment around them, they don’t see the people who are sharing the same space and walking the same path as them.
In country towns, or out on walks, people still nod and say ‘mornin’ as they pass by. I’ve always found that refreshing and comforting. It’s like an eastern namaste ‘I see you’, maybe even subconsciously with the deeper message of ‘the light in me honours the light in you.’
And driving out in the country people wave at each other. It’s a subtle lift of the hand, but a real greeting, one driver to the other. ‘G’day’ the gesture says. And possibly it’s loaded with more meaning, like ‘stay safe’ and a genuine ‘have a good day’.
They acknowledge each other because out there, it’s likely the other driver is their neighbour from a few kilometres down the road. Or it’s their auntie, the publican or the minister from the next town. There’s little anonymity out there and more of a sense of community.
Does living in the rat race mean honour and grace, tolerance and consideration have to disappear?
It’s one thing to be running late, under the pump and stressed out, or to be having a shit day.
But does it really matter if there’s someone driving slow in the fast lane? Yes, it’s wrong and a bit dangerous and maybe even against the rules these days. But calm down. Breathe into your belly rather than puffing up your chest. Consider giving them a friendly beep and a smile and a wave when they get it. You know, smiles are infectious!
Does it really matter if someone is walking too slow in the supermarket and blocking the aisle? Breathe out fully. Let it go. There is no point in getting all huffy. And if an old man is going at a snail’s pace to navigate a five point turn into a car park close to the shops, breathe and drive to a spot further away. You’ll walk the extra distance fast enough and your mind and body will be healthier for it.
Let’s think about what we say or how we respond online or on the road in the anonymity of a group of strangers.
I know none of you are road ragers. But be honest. Do you tend to get antsy when inconvenienced? Do your hackles rise?
“For every minute you are angry,
you lose 60 seconds of happiness”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Please Australia, can we try to slow this runaway train down? Just because you don’t know them, let’s still be patient and kind to those who aren’t as fast or good or convenient as we want them to be (including those who give us the finger).
One of my favourite idols, Thumper, taught me long ago, “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”
Be kind. Let it go.
Life is short.
Rant & lecture over ☺️
