I try to be a kind driver. When people make mistakes such as pulling out in front of me, I produce excuses for them. “He must have a lot on his mind.” It’s amazing how that paradigm shift frees me from getting angry over the incident.

I have a friend who does something similar. Although she is not from the Deep South by birth, when another driver does something dumb, she smiles and says quietly in a super-Southern accent, “Why, you poor thing. You plumb forgot how to drive.” Again, this puts a completely different spin on her emotional response.

When I see a road sign that says, “Right lane ends ahead,” I turn on my signal and try to work my way left as soon as I can. I’m not someone who zooms past on the right and then cuts over at the last minute.

But six months ago, I was in a not totally unfamiliar area, but one in which there had been consistent road construction and restructuring of the exits. Traffic was backed up for miles. I thought I was in one of two lanes that went straight, but as we moved along slowly, I realized I needed to merge left.

With my turn signal blinking, I tried to move over. No one would give an inch. I kept trying as the traffic edged along. Nothing. Where was the driving karma?  I mean, I always let people in. Why were people being so mean?

Finally I was at the point where I was out of room, and so nosed my way ahead of the car beside me.  He honked his horn. No, actually he laid his hand on the horn for a long ten seconds. I waved an “I’m sorry” gesture in the rearview mirror, but all I got back was a glare.

As we moved onto an overpass, I could see the traffic signal half a mile in the distance. It had just turned red, so I knew I had time before we’d start rolling again.

I put my car in park, pulled the emergency brake, and got out. As I walked back to Mr. Horn Blarer, I swear I could read his mind: “Oh great. Here comes a crazy lady.”

But I smiled and gave reaffirming body language by keeping my arm low and outstretched, palms up—surely the universal gesture of, “I come in peace.”

He reluctantly rolled down his window and grumbled, “What?!” I replied, “I wanted to apologize for being in the wrong lane back there. I didn’t realize my lane didn’t go through.” He refused to look at me, but said, “You’re fine, you’re fine.” I went back to my car.

Clearly he was not expecting an apology from me. But it was a sincere gesture on my part. And I’m hoping that forever after, he will graciously allow others in.

To my readers: Do you have a driving-related story to share?