Road rage, the disease which is in the bodies of every driver. The disease can be dangerous if in the wrong hands, yet can be very helpful in the correct hands. Sometimes when someone crosses the line while under the influence of road rage, I must step in and try my best to put them back in order. When a random driver verbally attacks my mother, I step in and feel the need to join the argument and end the conflict as soon as possible.
Back in the summer my life cycled between work, baseball, and working on my truck. I would go straight from work to the baseball field, and still find the time to work on my old truck in my driveway. on the rare day, when the stars would align, my truck had broken down on a work day with a baseball game in the…
I went to my baseball bag to grab my baseball bat. I was also still dressed in my dirty work clothes with a face covered in the filth of a long day of work. I walked up to the man slowly, letting my steel toed boots tap loudly on the asphalt for additional intimidation.My six foot one body cast a shadow over the short man as I stood with my thirty two inch tree rested upon my shoulder. I told the man to leave my mother alone before something bad happened, in the thickest southern accent I could pronounce. I could see the fear in the man’s eyes as he slowly crawled back into his beat up impala, and drove off.
I felt the need to act in the situation due to how the man was verbally attacking my mother for his own wrong doings and he had no indication of him letting up. I was not in any mood to deal with this man, thus I decided to take matters into my own hands to chase the idiotic man off. I also had an obligation to defend my mother from the man for if something bad were to happen to my mom, I would not be able to live myself knowing that I stood by and did nothing in her defense. I Felt the need to act because I needed to show my support for my mother for I could see that she needed me to help her…