Road rage? More like road anxiety

I thought I was set when I first started driving because I had been driving vehicles for my whole life. A toy John Deere, my grandma’s golf cart, ATVs, tractors. But what I wasn’t prepared for was other people.

I tend to be very into following rules, so much so that I came home from after-school care in elementary sobbing because the other kids wouldn’t listen to the counselors. Yeah. I was that kid.

When I saw the speed limit signs, I took ‘limit’ to mean ‘limit’, as in do not exceed. I did not take it to mean ‘suggestion’ or ‘minimum’. Then I drove on the interstate.

If you know me, you know I come from Indy. Indy interstates are typically seen as extra racetracks. 55 speed limit? Everyone is doing a minimum of 70.

As a new driver, this paired with the obscenely chaotic lane changes about sent me into my first anxiety attack.

My speedometer goes to 140, and though I’m not up on the standard speedometer maximum, I still believe cars shouldn’t have the ability to go over 100 miles per hour. Maybe even 90. It just welcomes trouble and temptation.

The highest speed limit in the U.S. is 85 and is in Texas, no less. Remind me to keep away from there.

The lack of being able to control what was going on around me was tough. I avoided interstates as much as I possibly could because the other drivers mixed with my ability to always end up taking a wrong turn or getting lost scared the living daylights out of me.

I have since mostly gotten over my fear or the interstate, but some drivers out there are just ridiculous. I still manage to make that wrong turn every time I go somewhere new, though. I even use a GPS. I’m just really good at being directionally challenged.