The Slice: Road rage yields to actual civility

I‘ve been thinking nice things about the guy I called an unprintable name.

Here’s what happened.

I was walking up Grand Boulevard early one recent afternoon. I had a lot on my mind.

Approaching a side street, I saw a car coming toward Grand. As the car was still a little ways off, I started to cross the side street. But instead of slowing to let me go, the car kept coming. I had to stop abruptly as it whipped in front of me.

“Thanks a lot, rectum,” I said.

Only I didn’t say rectum. And I did not mutter it under my breath. This was a comment I fully intended to share with the driver.

So I continued walking up Grand, and I heard someone saying something. It was the driver. Instead of turning onto Grand, he had stopped.

I turned and immediately began heading toward the car. The driver, a guy who might be in his 30s, had rolled down the window and was clearly perturbed. He was saying something about not having seen me.

OK, before continuing, I need to make something clear. I am not proud of myself for having used vulgar language. That’s not the man I aspire to be.

And when it comes to affronts to my pedestrianhood, I’m usually far more Zen-like.

Moreover, I’ve heard all about the unpredictable no-win insanity of road rage. Besides, I do not go around looking for fights. I’m an adult.

Some days, though, with just the right mood and just the right trigger, I am as capable as the next guy of falling into a lunkheaded “Bring it on” mindset.

But something happened as I strode purposefully toward the guy sitting in his car. I realized he was being civil.

I had called him an insulting name, but he was not escalating the idiocy. He was being a gentleman.

Oh, he was mad. Make no mistake about that. He didn’t like being called what I had called him. Still, he was expressing himself without resorting to middle-school tough guy language.

In an instant, my hostility evaporated. I reached into the car, patted his shoulder and told him I believed him when he said he hadn’t seen me. I said I was sorry I had called him a you-know-what.

He said he was sorry he had almost hit me.

As he drove off, I found myself thinking that what I had just experienced felt like the beginning of one of those buddy-movies. You know, the ones where the two guys start out as enemies and then become fast friends.

In matters of roadway etiquette, it’s easy to think all those strangers out there are jerks.

But anyone can make a boneheaded driving mistake.

Forgetting who you are and where you come from seems less forgivable.

“Today’s Slice question: What Spokane area feline most sincerely hates everyone in the world except for one person?