The Rant

I find a really good rant helps me let off steam. It's never directed face-to-face, more likely to the driver in front of me or the expletive-deleted who cuts me off or tailgates me on the highway. As I'm often reminded somewhat testily, “you realize no one can hear you except me,” says my wife..

She doesn't like it when I rant. She has a point but sometimes you just can't help yourself as she found out last night when she indulged in her own rant.

We had attended a wonderful concert by the United States Military Academy Band at a local park followed by a magnificent display of Fourth of July fireworks.

The park was jammed. It was a beautiful cool summer night and people were picnicking and kids were running around and it was an all around great time. Until it came time to leave.

Thousands of cars from various areas of the park all trying to squeeze into two exit lanes. We sat in line so long my wife started to, you know, rant. Did we have to park here? Why didn't we park outside the park and walk in, as our friends did? Pull over there (an empty spot) and turn off the car. Let's try to wait it out.

OK, I said, take it easy. We knew from past experience that it would be this way. Next time, if there is a next time, we'll park outside the park.

No sooner had I pulled over our lane began to move. A nice driver let me back in and my wife's breathing became normal again.

As I said, it was a wonderful All-American evening, complete with rant-provoking traffic jam.