To me, there is nothing more relaxing and meditative than driving. When I’m stressed, I’ve been known to drive for hours non-stop. Once, on a whim, I drove from Florida to New York just to get some time to think. Another time, I drove from New Jersey to Canada through the night. I often joke about being able to decipher my stress level by the amount of miles I have driven that month. So far, I’m targeting 30,000 miles for this year, but then again, if I compare it to the cost of medication, I think it’s a pretty efficient means of relaxation.

Needless to say, I’ve witness a great many stories while driving on the road. I’ve seen things that range from weird to downright comical. I’ve also sadly witnessed my share of accidents, fortunately none involving me, and have seen first hand the tragic effects of what can occur when driving while intoxicated.

Winter was dreadful this year and throughout it, I looked forward to the first drivable day when I could hit the road and cruise to the sound and sight of nature all around. I admit, I’m one of those freaks who loves to put his hands out the window and let the warm wind blow at me. I’m sure you’ve seen my type.

Finally, that first day of sunlight came and it could not have come at a better time – I had a stressful day at work and really needed a good contemplative drive. I left work mid-day but did not get far before terrible traffic set in. Perhaps because of the nice weather, I wondered if I was among others practicing “the zen of driving,” since there appeared to be an abnormal number of cars on the road that afternoon.

As I was pondering some deep philosophical thought (isn’t that what everyone does when they drive?) I heard a honk coming from a car next to me. I initially thought it was either a disgruntled driver upset about the traffic, or a kid showing off by challenging me to a race, but instead it came from a rusty old Subaru. The man inside looked at me with a smile and picked up a series of large cardboard posters from the seat next to him. As I wondered what to make of it, he held one of the posters to the window. On it was handwritten, “Excuse me. Your break light is not working.” With that, he waved again and drove off.

I could not get that rusty Subaru out of my mind for the rest of the day. I was simply awed at what I witnessed. This experience showed me what it means to perform conscious acts of kindness. This man likely had handwritten signs for a number of automobile problems and it was as if he took the effort to look for ways to help others in need. I wondered how many times I’ve seen a driver with a broken brake light, a hanging gas cap, a dragging muffler, or a set of keys dangling from the trunk. This man in the Subaru whom I never got to thank, showed me so much more than what was wrong with my car – he showed me what was wrong with me. Since that day, I swore to be more conscious about performing acts of kindness and I admit, on some of my drives I too go out of my way to try and help others.