I become angry while driving. Not mildly annoyed, but full-on vein-popping, teeth-grittingly furious. This isn’t the exception either. It happens nearly every time I get behind the wheel.

I’m not normally aggressive or prone to violence. In fact, I’d consider myself a pretty mild-mannered fella. Very roll-with-the-punches, I’d say. And yet, I am consumed with road rage during even the most basic commute. It’s not healthy.

I could relax while driving if people would simply remember a few of the rules we all learned in kindergarten.

1. No cutting in line for any reason
2. You are not the only person who matters
3. Don’t be such a DICK!

That’s it. Follow those rules and I’m Mr. Happy. Ignore them and I go all self-appointed-vigilante, tensing up and spewing obscenities. I’m not looking for a fight. Honest. I simply feel the need to let folks know in no uncertain terms that they’ve just made a dick move and should stop doing that. Yelling and getting angry doesn’t help, which is something I should have learned in kindergarten. Despite my efforts, people still drive like assholes. The only likely outcome is that I’m going to die of a heart attack or gunshot wound.

If I can’t fix anyone else, I suppose I’m going to have to fix myself.

For the past week I’ve been practicing. I smile kindly at the guy sneaking out-of-turn through the 4-way stop. I just quietly shake my head when someone decides that turn signals are too much hassle to bother with. Deep Breaths help.

So far it’s only been mildly successful, and I’m looking forward to the day when I arrive at my destination with unclenched teeth.