Road report - Call me Mr. Nice

Over the years, I've had my fair share of road rage.

That doesn't make me proud, but it helps me understand the motorists who, I'll swear, wait to go anywhere until they see me coming.

I don't know who these people are. I've never met them. I can't think of a thing I've done to make them unhappy -- unless they don't care for golf, especially golf played on a nonexistent downtown golf course. Maybe you've heard about my Amazing Downtown Golf Course ... .

Never mind.

This is about road rage.

The motorists I'm talking about are probably nice people under ordinary circumstances. But give them keys to a car and a monster emerges from what looks like somebody's sweet old grandpa or somebody else's goofy cousin.

I don't know all the driving laws. If I had to take a test right now, I'd probably flunk. But what I'm talking about doesn't have anything to do with legal stuff. It has everything to do with human decency.

Once upon a time, when being polite and having manners were still important, the motorists who usually got upset enough to be in a rage were those who had been wronged.

You know who you are.

I'll be you have your own stories to tell about the jerk -- um, make that inattentive driver -- who pulls out in front you, causing you to slam on your brakes while the coffee in your cup holder goes flying all over the windshield.

I know I do.

So when did the driving world suddenly do a flip-flop? Nowadays, the motorists who shout the loudest obscenities and make the most interesting hand signals are the ones who do the dumbest things behind the wheel of a car.

It's like their brain goes haywire as soon as their backside hits the upholstery of a bucket seat. I don't know what doctors call a condition like this. I call it SIS, or Stupid Idiot Syndrome.

I guess it's because I now have less time to spend on this globe than I've already frittered away, but I no longer want to be a road-rage participant. If others want to find even more creative ways to endanger their lives -- and mine -- while sitting in contraptions that turn into glass shards, steel spikes and plastic razors under the right impact conditions, there's nothing I can do about it.

What I can do is look for ways to be nice when I'm driving.

Remember courtesy?

So now when I'm in a line of traffic waiting for the light to change and someone wants to turn into a fast-food parking lot, I'll leave a bit of space. I get a kick out of the mimed thank-you these drivers pass along through their windshields. I have no idea what they are saying, but I like to think it's mostly words of surprised appreciation. I say "surprised" because, like it or not, most motorists do not expect to be treated in a nice way. Ever.

Or if I see a harried mom crossing a street with two kids and a frazzled look that says "I've just spent three hours in a doctor's office for a five-minute appointment and $300 worth of prescriptions," I'll stop.

Or if I see a car trying to turn out of the Walgreen's-Kmart parking lot while three lanes of traffic back up on Independence Street, I'll make room in my lane.

The upside of my newfound kindness and generosity should be obvious. First, it makes me feel good. Second, the drivers who get a bit of a break are truly grateful. I know they are.

The downside, however, is disappointing. Guess who has a conniption when they see a forgetful, white-haired column writer being nice? Yup. It's those same Stupid Idiots who would cut me off in traffic at the drop of a hat -- and then show me some fancy digital maneuvers.

Go figure.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.