Anger is such a difficult emotion. Although sometimes misdirected, it very often results from simply not understanding a circumstance or comment. How often we fly into a rage and launch a furious attack, shouting and spitting venom with such outrage that we can’t speak. Sometimes it’s such an embarrassment afterwards that we try to convince ourselves we were justified in our anger, when more often than not it was unnecessary. I have incurred substantial wrath over the last few weeks. People have frowned, scowled, shaken their fist, some have even shouted and threatened violence. My crime? I have been following the speed limit. After what the cynical might call, a brainwashing session, at a Speed Choice Workshop recently, I came away a slightly more sedate driver. Of course we are all reasonably good drivers and wouldn’t break the speed limit unless we were sure it was necessary. Yet there are still, on average, nine people killed on the roads each day, and more often than not the incidents are speed related. One of the main gripes from those at the workshop was that, in some places, speed limits are too slow or even too confusing. However after three hours with Speed Choice, like me, they became more understanding. Apparently nearly 50,000 people have completed this workshop, which leaves me with a bit of a quandary. How do those of us amongst this 50,000 cope with the many millions who don’t understand why we’re not breaking the law?
