It occurred to me one morning while running with the LBDs (my two little brown dogs) on our narrow, winding stretch of Justin Morrill Memorial Highway that I have a very simple standard for judging character. This litmus test measures kindness, empathy, awareness of surroundings, patience and love of animals.
These traits — not wealth, style, color or age — are to me the standard of goodness.
It all comes down to a simple road test. As the dogs and I run along the road trying to hug the shoulder, we scope out all approaching vehicles. Will they see me in my reflective vest? Will they move over? Will they slow down? Will they stay in the right lane? Will they drive faster? Should I wave my arm to wake them up? Should we jump in the ditch? Do we dare give the “slow down” hand sign used by highway workers?
Drivers who are living in the moment will see us running from far away, as the speed limit is only 30 mph here. The careful ones will slow down and move over into the empty oncoming lane. To these drivers, if I had the power, I would grant a special place in the Earthly paradise of happiness, but then being present and kind may be its own happiness.
To those drivers whose heads are somewhere else, seeing us at the last second and swerving over, as we have jumped into the ditch, I hope they can find a way to be aware and compassionate during their time on Earth. It is way more fun being here than off in the head.
Some very young and very old drivers are fearful of leaving their lane; I forgive them and wish them improved driving skills.
Remember, the double yellow line in Vermont is mostly a suggestion. If you never crossed it to pass a tractor or hay wagon, you would not arrive at your destination until the next day.
Drivers who hold their own lane and speed up are just downright miserable, and I don’t have the skills to analyze who they hate, and why.
The best drivers of all, the ones I want to bring home for coffee and apple pie, are those who stop and wait for approaching cars to pass so they can move over. I love these people so much; I sometimes inappropriately throw air kisses at them.
You can never tell ahead of time by the looks of the vehicle. Sometimes a dirty old pickup is the one to give you the most room on the road, just because the guy loves dogs. Conversely, you might have to give the slow down sign to a highly regarded member of your community who is running late. We never know. Driving brings out the hidden person in all of us.
Micki Colbeck lives in Strafford.