In the car on the way home.

Yesterday afternoon, while driving home, I started thinking about driving. The light had begun to darken and rain started to splatter the windshield. There I was, travelling 100 kilometers an hour - a speed unheard and incomprehensible the vast majority of humans who have ever lived.

Sensors inside the car sensed it was dark and provided me with blueish light so I could lightly see the interior controls. The headlights had switched themselves on, creating a pool of bright yellow light making everything bright and clear. Mechanical wipers swished water out of my way, allowing me to see unobstructed.

The car blew warm, de-humidified air into the cabin, making me feel comfortable, despite the unfriendly elements of wind, rain and cold outside the car. I adjusted the fan so that it blew warm air onto my feet, which were a little cold.

I listened to a audiobook read by a professional narrator, created in a studio thousands of miles away. When I tired of this, I tuned the sound system to music - a reggae-type music from a CD I had borrowed from a massive catalogue of CDs held in our library.

My left show was off, and I rubbed my foot, massageingly, at red lights. I thought, "I'm in a bubble of comfort, surrounded by tons of steel and metal, hurtling me efficiently toward a destination."

Imagine what historical humans would have thought

I'm not rich. Not noble or Kingly or important in any major sense. I'm just a regular human. Look at this luxury I have. I was inside a tiny and comfortably enclosed, speeding home.

I can see how road rage happens. Someone crashes into you, hurts you, disturbs your peace. Hell yeah, you could easily become aggressive or offended. The car wraps around you and shields you from personal contact. Other vehicles are similar machines, driven by nameless, faceless people.