Driver paradox

I know this lady. She talks of the years she spent backpacking around the world. She knows the best farmers' markets to buy the weird stuff. She is a vegetarian. She is generous and if you need anything will gladly share what she has.
Her hair is free, flowing and a mixture of colours from the natural palette. Her clothes match her hair. Her smile is warm. Her age is hard to determine.
Yesterday I was at an intersection. The traffic needed to merge to one lane, once they had safely negotiated the traffic lights. Everyone was calmly travelling through, watching each other and giving each car space to fall into single file. Then a large station wagon came flying through from back up the hill. We all had to suddenly brake. The big V6 aggressively elbowed its way to the front of the line.
I was angry at the rudeness. At the selfish disregard for the other drivers on the road. I knew the kind of person who drove like that. As they pushed past me, I caught a glimpse of the driver.
It was her.
I was stunned. Can a metal box on wheels have that much effect on personality?
I wondered which was the true picture of what she felt inside or maybe even hippies have bad days.