Bring to mind the disgusted, helpless, frustration one might feel as they look in their rearview mirror and see that damned typical driver weaving between lanes and cutting each one close. Watching someone begin the three lane crossover to the far turn lane and they meet your eye only after you’ve engaged the brakes. Did they even look? The speedster whipping by in the early morning, as you just left a school zone. The anger. The disbelief. The understanding of the difference between being in a hurry, or making a small mistake, and this reckless disregard. The abandonment of responsibly, ignoring of consequence, the willful endangerment of others. Don’t they see what they are doing?

But in a moment they’ll be gone. Disappearing into the traffic ahead, or turning wildly. And God you just wish you’d pull up to find them smashed against a pole. Alive, but properly cowed. Hurting no one but themselves. Hopefully.

Unless, the red light after red light bad luck parks you next to them time and time again. They tear off at the green but end up right beside you at the next intersection. You give them side eyes, but don’t confront. Waiting for them to just disappear. Does their music shake your window. Can you see their manic eyes in their mirror? Just their presence, sitting there stuck behind a school bus, or an old lady, you can already see them edging into another lane, or itching for the green light. Too coward to just go. Why is that where their conscious holds them? Might as well run the red you stupid bastard.

Now imagine you have a third person camera over their vehicle. Like a movie or like the GTA video games. You can see them within, locked dead set on whatever destination is so important. Their crazed looking about, checking every mirror and leaning to see the car they nearly clip as they move into the fast lane and then out. Even though on average their speed would be greater if they remained to the left lane, their feeble whacked out mind can’t comprehend the concept. You’re stuck watching them, feeling a weight of second hand embarrassment as people honk, or jerk at their wheels, or just plain shake their heads. Powerless to stop or confront this monster. No agency. And there’s never a cop is there?

Worse yet place yourself in the passenger seat. Their spouse, or dog, or some other meaningless affect that gives you the pleasure of first hand point of view. As the creature next to you disregards themselves, others around them, and now, you. You can’t just take the wheel. You don’t have the driving instructors brake pedal on your side. Put the window up and cower so the world can’t associate you with them. Too frightened to scream. Knowing that any show of fear would only bring their attention to you and away from the road. Speed to great to jump for it. Too embarrassed at the red light. And if you found yourself in their car you probably have some connection to them that one bad car ride can’t sever. You’ve been here before anyhow. But, like the mom with kids you just passed at 25 mph over the speed limit, you can’t do a thing other than hope the car either arrives safely or that the crash is quick and painless.

Now, if you can make the mental leap, imagine you are both the driver and the passenger. Watching as if someone else is making these terrible, embarrassing decisions, but seeing your crazed face in the rear view. Wondering the entire time, why am I doing this? Why did I do that? Why can’t I stop myself? Why am I the frightened, helpless, passenger in my own life seeing myself behind the wheel? How can that be me?

Some people feel like that you know.