Confession of a Tailgater

While I was stationed at Fort Richardson, outside Anchorage, Alaska, I bought a repossessed Datsun 2000 Roadster from the post credit union. It was a magnificent car for me at the time. When I was reassigned to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, I took the car with me. It was loaded on a boat and shipped to Seattle, Washington. I met the car there and drove to Los Angeles, California, to visit cousins. From there I drove to Tullahoma, Tennessee, and visited with my parents until time to go to Ft. Bragg. In the nine months remaining in my enlistment, I probably drove between Ft. Bragg and Nashville / Tullahoma twenty times.

When I finished my enlistment I moved, with my Datsun back to Tullahoma, looking for the beginning of my real life. I met Jan and it was on my way to her house one evening when a car coming from the opposite direction turned into my driver’s door and ended my Datsun’s life. I am still mourning the loss.

I not only drove that little yellow roadster many miles; I drove it hard. Driving fast in a straight line was never appealing to me. Driving fast around curves and corners was and continues to be exhilarating. I have found nothing to match the feeling of a car’s momentum dragging the car into a soft slide away from the corner as the rear wheels push the car forward around the turn.

There is one part of the memory of that car that haunts me still. I was an aggressive driver. I was an impatient young adult. Putting the two together made me an annoying driver. Slow drivers, meaning staying within the speed limit, infuriated me. I hated to be behind some old person driving the speed limit and impeding my important pursuit to my next destination. I would zoom up behind them close enough to touch their bumper and break to match their lifeless journey. I would glare at them through my windshield. With all my mental power, I attempted to impose my will over theirs to move them faster or out of the way. I was an obnoxious “tailgater”.

Reflecting on this, one of the things which is curious to me is that when I had lots of years ahead of me, I was always in a hurry to the next place. Now that I have far fewer years in front of me, I have dramatically slowed down; I am in no hurry at all. Sounds rather counter intuitive does it not? It would seem logical that I would hurry more to get more done. Sadly, I still have the attitude. Now, when a young driver zooms up to push me faster, I tend to slow a little and drift toward the center strips in the road. I don’t think I have changed all that much attitudinally; I am still the brash human I have always been. I am no longer a tailgater, but I am nonetheless obnoxious. As the Apostle Paul confessed, “O, what a wretched man I am. I know what I shouldn’t do but I find myself doing it anyway.” (This is not a quote but my own muddled paraphrasing of Paul’s words in Romans 7.)

Here is what I am thinking: Confession may be good for the soul, but it is repentance that changes character. Real repentance, an absolute “turning away” from a character flaw, is very hard to apprehend. But nevertheless, it is the life of a person choosing to pursue God. I am helpless and hopeless, but God is constantly helpful and hopeful.

Photo – A 1969 Datsun 2000 the same color as the one I owned. I still think its a really cool car.