I planned on blogging about driving in NJ and just had a fresh experience to include ...

It's good for me to drive through Lakewood on a Saturday and I have the pleasure of doing so once a month on my way to Brick, straight down route 9. It's a good reminder of what I'm about -- to see the Orthodox men and boys walking to and fro. I don't see myself as standing in contradistinction to them, 'though there are many, many differences ... I prefer to think in terms of continuity and hopefully I can think that without causing too much offense. Many of them don't have cars, so Sabbath or not, they walk.

On my way back from Brick, through Lakewood again, turning from route 88 to route 9 north, I paused at a green light for a couple, a man and a woman together, to cross. They happened to be Mexican people, as far as I could tell, but they were waiting in the crosswalk, so their ethnicity mattered less to me than the state law which dictates that I yield to pedestrians in the crosswalk. The driver behind me in a bright-colored pick-up truck (either bright yellow or flashy red, I can't remember, but it was eye-catching) could stand no more and laid on the horn at me and started waving his arms. I was going to get out of my car to talk with him but the last time I did that, the driver later threw a Snapple bottle through my rear window. So I decided to stay in my car and not corner him or make him feel threatened. As if I could threaten anyone. The driver was obviously agitated and probably frustrated at me already for not making a right-on-red earlier. But such a move isn't permitted at that intersection, according to the posted signage. Anyway, I survived and so did he.

Now on route 9 heading north, we stopped side-by-side at a light at the next intersection, but I was less concerned about him and more concerned about three young boys roughhousing in an empty lot. An older boy was pushing around a younger one while another looked on. The younger one kept coming back for more, as younger ones will. They may have been related, even brothers. I'm not sure what difference their relationship should make -- there seemed to be real potential for harm. Had the street a shoulder, I would have pulled over, gotten out and talked with the older boy, but there wasn't room to leave the travel lanes, so before my light changed green, I rolled down the window and hollered out, "Hey, stop pushing." My husband told me later that I overstepped my responsibility but I'm a mother, I can't help myself. I doubt that my words were intelligible over the traffic, etc., but the older boy knew enough to run across a side street into a yeshiva or house of worship there on the corner, presumably where he would find his parent, and the smaller boys followed him inside. So, all's well that ends well.

The fresh experience was just now coming home from my sons' school. The five-mile stretch is mostly a no-passing zone and is all 35 m.p.h. Normally, I do 40 but every once in a while, I set the cruise control to 35 and forget about it. If someone comes up behind me and looks agitated, I try to pull over and let them pass or I may speed up a little to make things tolerable. The road is basically one-lane. But for whatever reason today, I was oblivious to the driver behind me and it wasn't until we came to Millstone Road -- I went straight and he turned towards town -- that I realized how miffed he was, because he raised his middle finger at me ... I saw in my side-view mirror. And I burst out laughing at myself for being so unaware of him. I mean, I knew there was a car behind me, following closely, but he didn't venture out as if he wanted to pass or otherwise drive aggressively, rev up towards me and pull back or any of the usual habits of impatient drivers. So I was in the dark about his thoughts and how pathetic that, because he behaved relatively patiently, I hardly noticed him. I mean, unless he's in my face, I don't see him? What does that say?