Letter to the Editor

Driving this morning, I was pondering the psychology of being in and directing this moving room and potential missile. Why are such powerful feelings so easily ignited?

I think Maria João Martins’ idea about the teaching of driving as a collective process is inspired and even of crucial importance.

It’s probable that how we are introduced to any activity colours our approach to it for the rest of our lives, especially whilst still a teenager.

Yesterday, walking in Loulé I noticed a woman walking towards me. We tried not to bump into each other and, in so doing; we stepped in the same direction twice, doing the classic mirror dance, comic, to my mind. I smiled and met her eyes, but she was not there. Impatience was in possession. I was in her way and that was all. My opinion of her was low.

But, driving, I am just like that woman. A slow car is in my way and because it is an anonymous blockage, a sadistic impatience creeps in. The driver is an ignorant bumbler impeding me. I have little control over my contempt, though I try hard to neutralize its poison. Is it because I’ve been taught to see ‘Hazards’ rather than ‘Fellow Travellers’? Maybe this and other conditioning that reduces individuals to threats, consumers, stereotypes, etc.

So I’m trying with some realistic thinking about fellow drivers’ daily, difficult lives. Consider these options when next caught behind an ‘impedance’: They have just passed their test; they are very old and unsure; the car is on its’ last legs; they do not know the way; they are interested in what is around them; they are very tired and so being careful; they are having inspiring/ worrying- distracting thoughts/ conversations; someone called them on the mobile (just 2 seconds); and most importantly, perhaps - they are not late.

But can I believe them? There’s always this almost desirable idea that the driver in front really is an ignorant, self obsessed egotist who really does believe there’s no one else on the road but himself. Then we can fully indulge in righteous indignation- guilt free.

Ahhhhh at last.

Yours

Jill Stott