There's No Place Like Home....

by Kim
(Mississippi)

I live in a small town where the only thing that passes for road rage is having the misfortune of finding yourself stuck on the road behind a tractor hauling hay or the occasional log truck.

I never truly grasped the concept of "road rage". That is until my job required me to visit a large city in the neighboring state for two weeks and realized how sheltered I had been. The only thing that saved me from committing bodily harm to myself or others is my radio. While inconsiderate drivers were cutting me off, forgetting which lane is for the tortoise or the hare, and just basically blaring their horns for no apparent reason, I learned to take a deep breath and find a radio station that played my favorite genre.

For that short time, I learned I had to allow for traffic jams and morning/evening commutes. So, instead of working on an early stroke, I just reacquainted myself with 80s hits and talk radio. I highly recommend you try that the next time you want to make obscene hand gestures! Since then I have traveled the United States and tackled my share of big city traffic. One thing is for sure, I have developed a whole new respect for small town living!

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