How Come I Don't Have a Pet Pig?
We all have pet peeves.
I remember the first time I heard my parents say that as a kid…
but what I heard was pet pigs.
And I remember thinking,
“How come I don’t have one?”
Well… as I grew up,
some of those childhood misunderstandings cleared up…
…and I realized something:
I do have them.
A whole passel of pigs… I mean peeves.
I could be a regular pet peeve farmer.
(Side note—I actually did live on a pig farm in my early 20s… but that’s another story.)
For me, a pet peeve is usually this:
A desire… or even a need… that has gone unmet.
And one of my deepest ones?
Communication.
The desire to understand…
and to be understood.
If you know me, you know my brain doesn’t always move in straight lines.
So that desire—to be understood—runs deep.
(Shoutout to my amazing wife, who continues to hang in there with my non-linear way of connecting dots.)
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how our view of life must follow us into every avenue of our life.
And I’ve started to see something clearly:
When we feel understood—or when someone is even trying to understand us—
our similarities expand…
and our differences begin to soften.
So let me share one of my biggest pet peeves.
Driving.
You know that moment…
Someone cuts you off.
No signal. No warning.
And just like that—0 to 100.
Frustration.
Anger.
Maybe even rage.
It’s wild, isn’t it?
The same person who would politely step aside for you on a sidewalk…
can feel like a completely different human being behind the wheel.
And I think there’s a reason.
Driving puts us into a subtle state of stress—
a kind of low-level fight-or-flight.
We’re alert.
We’re guarded.
We’re ready to react.
And here’s what I’ve noticed:
It’s not always the action that triggers us…
It’s the lack of communication around it.
Which brings me to something simple.
Something small.
Something we all have…
The turn signal.
It’s such a basic tool.
But it does something powerful.
It says:
“Hey… I’m about to shift.”
“I see you.”
“I’m not a threat.”
“We’re in this together.”
And here’s the real question:
Are we using it… mindfully?
Not just mechanically…
but intentionally?
Do you use it when no one’s around?
When it’s obvious?
When it “doesn’t matter”?
Because that’s where the deeper practice begins.
Abhyāsa.
Consistent effort.
When we practice the small things—
over and over—
they become part of us.
A kind of muscle memory.
A communication memory.
A way of being that says:
“I want you to understand what I’m doing.”
“I’m here to move with you, not against you.”
And maybe this is why it’s such a pet peeve for me.
I even have a bumper sticker that says:
“SIGNALS. USE THEM.”
Because driving is stressful.
And when we’re under stress…
that’s when our patterns show up.
So if we can communicate clearly—
even in those moments…
If we can signal instead of react…
Then something shifts.
And that doesn’t just stay in the car.
It follows us.
Into our conversations.
Our relationships.
Our hardest moments.
We begin to say things like:
“Hey, I’m getting overwhelmed.”
“I need a little space.”
“I’m not upset—I just need a moment.”
We signal.
Before we swerve.
So this week, notice your lane changes.
Notice when something shifts inside of you.
And before you move…
use your signal.
We’re all just trying to make it home safely.
With you on the road, always,
Danny
P.S.
I remember growing up, my dad teaching me little driving signals:
Flashing your lights to let a trucker know they’re clear.
Blinking your lights when someone forgot theirs at night.
Simple ways of saying,
“I see you.”
Do you have any to share? Let me hear from you.
(And yes… we all know that other signal too.
I’ve used it. Not my proudest form of communication.)
One last quick story—
Years ago, I moved to a small town in Washington.
Someone was driving slow in front of me…
and I let them know exactly how I felt—with both hands.
Turns out…
they were my neighbor.
Nothing like a little humility
to teach you how to slow down.
ROAR with love,
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
