We were four, maybe five, car lengths behind the car in front of us this morning on our soon-to-be-over daily commute and there were no cars behind us for at least 50 yards.  We know this because we're always well aware of the traffic around us when we drive - we pride ourselves on our spatial awareness behind the wheel.  So we're the last car in this little convoy heading up the six- or seven-lane highway on our way to work.

Suddenly we hear someone blaring their horn off to our left, and then from seemingly nowhere a car comes flying across at least two lanes of traffic to cut into that small space between us and the car in front, and then, having just cut us off, across two more lanes to the right to make it to the exit ramp we had almost just passed.  Instead of just tapping on their brakes for a mere nanosecond, not to stop but just to slow down from, say, 80 mph to 79 for just a moment, they could have easily passed behind us where there was no traffic, little chance of collision, and easily have made their exit.  But no, they accelerate, warn everyone else that they were coming through by leaning on their horn, and almost cause a collision or a series of collisions by cutting us off as they drift across at least five lanes of traffic.

No accident, but some people. . . .

Each day, we see cars driving 20 to 25 mph over the speed limit on this stretch of highway, weaving through the other cars driving a mere 10 to 15 mph over the limit, swinging out wide across three, four, or more lanes of traffic, and mercilessly cutting off people in the other lanes.  All this while 18-wheelers are lumbering along, choking up the slow lanes to the right.  There are accidents somewhere on the Atlanta highways almost every day, many times fatal, oftentimes with grievous injuries, almost always resulting in backed-up traffic jams for hours.  Which just makes the drivers that much more aggressive when they finally get past the blockage and are free once again, but now feel they have to make up for lost time.

We can't tell if the driving has really gotten that much worse as of late, or if it's us, the psychological effect of our breakdown earlier this year on this stretch of road.  We were stranded and helpless for 25 minutes in the high-speed HOV lane while cars sped by, narrowly missing us or screeching to a halt behind us when they couldn't get over. A friend or ours whose husband is a cop and knows a thing or two about these kinds of things says that's a textbook example of PTSD - 25 minutes is way too long to be pinned in a helpless situation fearing for your very life.

Then on top of a possible case of PTSD, our anxiety is increased knowing this is our last week of commuting, only four more trips - two each way - and we're done.  If life were a movie, this is when we'd buy it on the highway, and the guy shoveling our remains into the meat wagon would say to his buddy, "Shame, he was only a day away from retirement."

And then on top of the PTSD and the sense of impending irony,  we worry that this might somehow become a self-fulfilling prophecy - we have an accident because we subconsciously believe we're going to have one.

Best not to think about it at all.  Just get it over and done with and then stay home with the cats.

Two more days.  One hundred more miles.  Couldn't end soon enough.