The race

There are times when I just feel good.  As in mentally good.  Like overcoming an obstacle good, just passed a test good, confident in what I’m doing good.  You know, things like that. 

I was in one of those moods today.  I am almost done with all my lecture finals and lab proficiencies this semester, and I realized that I got an A in every lab – hence my feel-good mood. 

So as I pull up to a stop light this evening, while relishing in my sudden life-confidence, a car pulls up in the lane next to me.  I casually turn and make eye contact with the driver – no big deal.  This particular driver happens to be an elderly man (by “elderly,” I mean at least in his 70’s).  I offered a smile, because I just felt like it, and I looked over at him just long enough to wait for my reciprocal smile… but I never “truly” got one.

Instead, I got a shit-eating-grin, and a rev of his engine… as in an “I’m about to race you” type rev of his engine.  I thought – no way - he isn’t trying to race me.  It’s not possible.  He’s too old.

And then it happened.

I got smoked by a silver-streak in a 1994 Buick. 

At first I laughed it off.  Actually I laughed my ass off.  Because it was fucking hilarious. 

But then I thought – wait - that wasn’t so funny.  Not funny at all.  That guy just challenged me, and I totally fell for his non-existent bluff.  My game was totally off.  What the hell just happened?  

Suddenly I had this overwhelming wave of doubt and uncertainty wash over me.  I forgot all my formal training from school.  I didn’t know if I remembered to pack clothes for Charly for school tomorrow.  I didn’t know where the hell I was driving.  I JUST DIDN’T KNOW ANYTHING.

I was defeated.  Knocked down a few pegs.  Taken for a ride. 

I came home and reflected on the event.  I pondered why in the world my Zen had to be ruined for some idiot’s dangerous pubescent obsession.  I needed some sort of “glass is half-full” scenario to turn this into a positive experience.

So I decided that instead of thinking that this was some sort of attack on my self-confidence, I will believe that it was in fact the opposite.  I actually HELPED this man.  That dude is sitting around feeling might proud of himself, I’ll bet (well he was, before his 8pm bedtime).  I gave him back the courage and fearlessness that he one possessed as a young man.  He will wake up a rejuvenated man.

Or else he is just an asshole.  But as a mother, I will not use the latter as a life lesson.