am I the only one?, paranoia about driving ruins it? Options

[tat2dphreak]

ok, over the past 6 years, I've done damn near everything on my car... the transmission is probably the only part 'untouched' and even it got new seals and every linkage bushing...

but now, when I drive it, I'm nit-picky, and every little thing seems to cause worry...

example... yesterday it got up to the high 80s outside, and my car, in stop-go traffic got up to slightly less than 220 on the way home... and I started worrying of over heat...

every rattle, noise, smell or anything a 40 year old car could have, worries me bonkers to the point the fun in the car is far upset by the paranoia...

does anyone else get like this?

[1970 Neun vierzehn]

My concern is less about the car and a whole lot more about the dumb, stupid, reckless, and mindless, semi-comatose people who are "operating" motor vehicles.
To wit:
Testosterone hyped dudes in lifted, duallie P/Us with cab lights and chrome stacks running half a car length behind you when your already 10 over on the interstate.

Half-comatose, clueless seniors wandering through stop signs and blowing red lights as they peer through those huge cataract sunglasses while pointing their Buicks and Mercurys in the general direction they think they want to go.

Blond, latte-drinking, cell phone yakking women who feel "entitled" to be in front of you simply because they're blond, have a 5000 lb SUV, and are certain that they are on a higher socio-economic ladder than you, so they always have the right-of-way.

Soccer moms, mini-vans, and phones......the definition of distracted driver

The rusty, 12 year old "ricer" in three different colors, an outsized wing, a fat phfart pipe, with max bass pumping out, weaving and bobbing through traffic as if this car were equiped with carbon-fiber brakes and the latest suspension technology. All this "sophistication" is in the care of someone with maybe 18 months of driving experience.

The young girl in the 3 year old Kia with the space-saver on the front, doing 15 over in the fast lane, one car length behind a 10 axle dump truck, that is hanging on the bumper of the bimbo pushing her Lex-Infin-illac ever closer to your rare, early style 914 rear bumper, as you pedal furiously in your 1.7 looking for a hole in the slow lane to dive into, but you can't 'cause the slow lane is clogged with 18 wheelers, cement mixers and mini-vans.

The driving environment just isn't what it used to be when I bought the 914 35 years ago. (thus spake the "dinosaur")

Paul