Focus. Speed. I am speed.
That’s me at the wheel. Just a middle-aged dad trying to stay calm in peak hour traffic, where I am decidedly NOT speed.
Then someone cuts me off without signalling, jams the brakes, and just like that, I’m possessed.
“Mother-son of a dragon, may the fleas of a thousand cows infest your armpits!”
There it is.
One moment I’m a responsible, upright citizen, and the next, I’ve turned into a fire-breathing, horn-tooting, expletive-generating mess on the ECP.
To all my friends, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. This is the side of me I usually keep hidden behind tinted windows and polite smiles at church.
But it’s time I come clean.
Hi, I’m Kelvin, and I’m a recovering road rager.
Why Am I So Angry?
It’s not that I don’t know it’s wrong. I’m not proud of it.
But there’s something about the car – that strange, enclosed, metal pod – that turns otherwise rational people into rage demons. I’ve seen it in others. And more awkwardly, I’ve seen it in myself.
Once, a driver beat a red light at a cross-junction just as I was about to cross. I managed to brake in time – but not calmly enough to stop myself from unleashing a spectacularly vulgar dialect expletive.
There was silence for a moment as the car came to a shrieking halt…then came a small voice from the back seat.
“Dad, are you okay?”
In my anger, I had completely forgotten that my then 9-year old was in the car, and he heard everything. Feeling crushed and embarrassed all at the same time, I became even angrier.
This dude just turned me into a raging bull in front of my kids – how dare he?
The irony, I know.
I’m the Son of Rage and Love
Outside the car, I like to think I’m a pretty decent person. I hold the lift doors open and help old ladies cross the road. But once the car door slams shut?
Different story. Different Kelvin.
So what is it about being behind the wheel that brings out this inner Hyde?
In part, I think it’s the idea that you are alone. There’s no accountability, no social feedback loop. You can shout, swear, make dramatic hand gestures, and the only witness is your dashboard cam recording your descent into madness.
Then there’s the culture of “Singaporean” driving. Everyone’s trying to get ahead, get home, get out (or into) of the ERP zone before the meter ticks into a higher fee.
Lane discipline is a myth. Signalling is optional.
Add in a long day, a missed exit, and someone drifting at 60 km/h in the rightmost lane, and suddenly, your blood pressure reaches a level your doctor warned you about.
Trigger Warnings
I’ve noticed that the most angry I get is when I am put in a position of danger – when a near accident happens.
It’s just the great sense of injustice I feel that I almost had to pay for someone else’s foolishness.
When someone swerves into my lane without looking, or brakes suddenly while checking their phone, it’s not just inconsiderate, it’s reckless. I am genuinely shaken, and it expresses itself in pure rage. Because I know how quickly these things can go south; I imagine the insurance claims, the injury, the what-ifs.
It wasn’t my fault, and yet I’m the one who ends up clenching the wheel, muttering curses, gesturing at windshields like a deranged mime.
But somewhere behind that windshield is probably just another tired parent trying to get home, or a new driver, already terrified and trying their best not to mess up. Maybe it’s someone’s grandparent, driving carefully because their reflexes aren’t what they used to be.
My rage doesn’t make their drive (or mine) any safer. I’m not just damaging my own peace of mind; I’m contributing to a cycle of anger that makes everyone’s commute a little more hostile, a little more exhausting.
What if instead of adding to the chaos, I could be the driver who breaks the cycle?
Keep Calm and Carry On
This year, I turn 45, and I’ve made it my resolution to try and tame the inner beast. Not because a mysterious Grab driver gave me life advice through the rearview mirror, but because I don’t want to be that guy anymore. The guy who comes home from work all worked up. The guy who rants about “Singaporean drivers” as if he’s not one of them.
Here’s what has occasionally worked for me.
- Pause. When something infuriating happens, the first thing I try to do is…nothing. No honking. No yell. Just breathe. That tiny moment of non-reaction buys me the chance to make a better choice.
- Detach. I imagine having an out-of-body experience and picture David Attenborough calmly describing my meltdown as if it were wildlife footage. It’s hard to stay angry when you see yourself acting like a cornered baboon.
- Imagine the news headline. “Middle-aged Man Loses It and Throws Eggs at Passing Cars.” I imagine my photo below the headline, pixelated but still clearly me. I imagine the HWZ EDMW forum having a field day. I imagine my teenage kids seeing it.
Interestingly enough, this has been the most effective method.
The Road Is Long
There’s still work to do. The rage hasn’t magically disappeared. But I’ve come to believe that driving, that most mundane of modern rituals, is actually a daily test of character.
It’s where I meet a version of myself I’d rather not be – and that maybe, if I keep trying, it’s where I can become someone a little better. Not just for myself but for others too.
So here’s to the long road to being the chill guy. The guy that smiles and lets you filter slowly into my lane. The man that gets cut off in traffic, but simply shrugs and turns up the volume on his “Relaxing Vibes” Spotify playlist.
So if you ever see me in traffic, looking unusually zen in peak hour congestion, no, I haven’t reached enlightenment.
I’ve just remembered I don’t want to go viral on Mothership.
What stops you from being a road rage monster?
Share your thoughts with us
