Driving to Cold Lake the other day, mentally cataloguing the changing colours of the leaves and wailing about the coming winter, it occurred to me that I was approaching the one year anniversary of finally, at the age of 27, getting my driver's license.
Driving home from Cold Lake that day, mentally sobbing about how soon the sun sets these days and how I was probably going to plow into a bear or a deer, it occurred to me that I have learned a lot about driving in this past year that was not included in my driving lessons back in Wainwright.
As a massive SUV sped up behind me, the driver let his irritation with my cautious driving show by blinding me with brights that reflected in every mirror I've got.
Unfortunately, for that specific car, he did not realize that not being able to see does not inspire me to speed up to a level he found more appropriate for the driving conditions.
In fact, as I wailed (out loud this time), “But there are bears afoot and I cannot see them,” I took my foot off the gas pedal entirely, trying to squint or tip my head in the perfect way to see more than the harsh glare of the headlights.
Maybe the SUV would have survived a late night bear encounter while speeding down the highway, but my little car would not.
He did eventually pass me, flashing his hazards and break lights repeatedly until I realized the severity of my crime (which was going five kilometres per hour below the speed limit when the road was wet and it was approaching midnight) and was properly shamed. Then he sped off into the night.
From incidents like that, I have learned it's more important to know what's ahead of you than to focus on what's behind. If you let it, the past will blind you to the dangers (and hopefully adventures) of the future.
I have had similar encounters with people who are not pleased with my inability to speed. It's a moral dilemma I face everyday, a tormented need to arrive at my destination a few minutes sooner warring with my need to obey the rules.
A semi pulling a flatbed trailer loaded up with massive hay bales took issue with my inability to speed this summer.
There is nothing so harmful to a driver's sense of self-worth as being tailgated by a semi hauling hay bales on a country highway, let me tell you.
In that instance, I learned another important lesson, one I like to call Picking My Battles.
Sure, I could have continued to drive along the highway at a risky 105 kilometers per hour, tailgated by a gigantic truck spilling a swirling and terrifying wake of straw and hay behind us.
It made me nervous, it made me wonder what sort of damage could happen if one of those bales came loose, it made me question the moral aptitude of a driver who would speed while hauling such a dangerous load, one which could roll down the highway and crush everything in its path. I realized I could continue to panic or I could concede defeat and pull over.
Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour, or so I've heard, and so I told myself, as I ducked into a side road, parked, and watched the angry truck continue on its way, plumes of hay twirling along the road behind it, but luckily, no bales coming loose.
My battered self-esteem was only mildly soothed by that, however. I've always had troubles picking my battles, and maybe the experience will help me work on that skill.
I've also learned that all it takes is a tiny bit of black ice on a snowy highway to destroy what had formerly been a leisurely trip down the highway.
Life lesson learned from that? You never know when smooth sailing is going to go a little sideways. Also, invest in snow tires.
I've learned other things behind the wheel as well, particularly that I am never as alone as I think I am. Whether it's a gopher standing as a silent sentinel along the shoulder, a cat waiting to spring kamikaze-style out of the ditch and in front of my car, a pedestrian with a death-wish, or a child dashing onto the road, there is always someone, somewhere, that my passage can harm if I am not careful and vigilant.
Sometimes I think we ought to be just as careful with the people who surround us on a day-to-day basis as we are with those who surround us while we're driving. You never know whose life you can affect in both negative and positive ways as you pass by.
My life changed when I learned to drive. I've spent countless hours behind the wheel of my trusty car, navigating life's tricky waters and highways, and learning along the way.
Here's hoping the next year is as accident-free as the last. I'm knocking on wood.
And on the tragic day when I do get a speeding ticket despite my morally-driven inability to speed, you'll be the first to know.
