So the other day I come back from work. I am in the car, driving in the right lane, circulation is pretty normal for 5pm.As I cross the 407 (a big interstate), I know the street I am in will soon go from three to two lines. So I speed up a bit, pass a few cars, signal, and inject my car into the middle lane soon to become the right one, plenty of room.A surreal light and sound show take place behind me. A huge black SUV is horning and flashing all the lights is got at me… Since it does not break my calm, I notice the SUV pulling on the left line without signalling and so doing forcing a silver Camry to break pretty hard, while at the same time I am slowing down and stopping at the red light. I already know what is happening…
I had passed a BIG BLACK SUV with my little insignificant blue hatchback, and so doing robbed its owner from the first place at the red light… How silly of me, I should have remembered the rule “Big cars have priority because, well, they are just… better, and big, and powerful, and better… And big…”
The driver of the SUV breaks at my level on the left lane (so he is first after all, bravo!), he is yelling, but since I have the music on pretty loud I cannot hear him. I turn towards him, smiling, and as I cut the music, I say “Attends je coupe mon filtre à con, je vais mieux t’entendre” (* “Wait I am turning my jackass filter off so I can hear you”).
And I vaguely hear “…Learn how to drive you mother fucker…, blah, blah, blah”, the rest is lost in oblivion. Yep, that’s what I though… The small dick guy that bought the big black SUV to compensate ( I love those guys, really, they are so self explanatory in their stupidity).
I notice that the red of his face is quite harmonious with his black leather interior. At the same time I think “yeah like YOU can teach me how to drive with your AUTOMATIC Tonka truck”…
It is one of those times were the guy starts to “piss me off”, so I get “angry”… And instinctively I let go of the break, slopping a bit back (yeah I got a manual, you see…), just enough not to be on the white strip…
He is still screaming like a 10 years, I am still smiling at him thinking he should pop a pill (not a blue one, he already got the car for that, more along the line of xanax to chill a bit). I catch the light turning red on the other street. Only my wrist move when I shift in first. It’s green, I am gone. I hear his tires screaming on the white paint, I swift second, by the time his V8 loose enough power for the tires to get grip and move his 2 tons truck, my little 800kg manual car is already in third, 75m beyond. I pass an orange light, he catches the red… What can I say… I don’t know how to drive…
And that was me “pissed”, thank you very much…
August 10th, 2008 at 7:07
Hello, I,m glad I found your web..You have given me the insite to a man I was with for 22 yrs.I did,nt know why he was like he was till I read your blog..He is you to a te , but he will never get diagnosed as he commited suicide..Threw understanding you, I now understand him..Thanks Carolyn
August 11th, 2008 at 22:54
Clinical depression, and of course let untreated, suicide, is one of the variable of SPD.
Not so common it seems, though there is hardly any serious statistical study due to the extremely low percentage of the population impacted.
SPD does not kill, depression does… Sadly, a depressed schizoid is usually harder to help than a regular case of depression. A correlation must be made between his previous state and his depression, and again, SPD is not so easily diagnosed by professionals, let alone hidden behind a depression…
I personally managed to fight depression so far, like many other schizoids. But we all have different stories and background, and even personality, mind you…
If I shade some light for you, that is that.