Sometimes, when I am driving, I am the protector. I see someone, usually in my rear view mirror, who is driving to fast, tailgating, weaving in and out of traffic, etc. It is my role to regulate this person by getting even with the car beside me and maintaining the same, or slightly but just maddeningly, faster speed. I reserve special ire for the ones who zip down the left side when everybody else went ahead and merged. These are the people who slow down the whole process for everybody. These are the people who I will not be letting in.
Being the protector is easier to do on the Interstate Highway System than on a secondary road. Once they are around you, they are around you on a secondary road. God forbid we have a four way stop sitch. I don’t think anybody in this town knows how to navigate them because there are no four way stops in Atlanta. It is my job to instruct.
Being the protector is a hard job. One that goes unnoticed and unappreciated most of the time. I’m not sure how one gets recognition for being the protector, but a thumbs up from the dude in the ’87 Tercel who I just ran a pick and roll for would be nice. He seems unaware of my efforts on his behalf. He seems pretty content to just be driving down the road on his way to wherever he is going. Like me when I am not the protector. Those would be the days I prefer.