Drive!
To all the elderly drivers who give old people a bad name, and especially the little old lady who almost mowed me down with her old Mercedes today: learn how to drive. Now, I have nothing against the elderly. I'll probably live long enough to be elderly. But just because you're old doesn't mean I don't expect you to know how to drive. And an aircraft carrier disguised as a car, such as an Oldsmobile or Cadillac, is not an appropriate substitute for driving skill.
The elderly, driving-impaired citizens of America have characterized almost all of my interactions with senior citizens. I would visit my grandparents in Florida (commonly mistaken to be the Sunshine State, while it is in fact the Old Guy in a Caddy State) every spring break. Every once in a while as my dad and I were in the car, he would slam on the brakes and throw his arm in front of my chest. Innocent, at age seven, I had only the most vague understanding of why my father looked at the Cadillacs in fear.
There are some basic rules of driving that seem to have slipped the memory. For instance, if you're trying to enter the road from your driveway, you can't just wheel half of your steel tank out into the road just as I'm about to go past you, and then stop. Either you're coming or you're going, and the slow inching is a disaster in the making. Your car may be built to survive those still pending attacks from the Commies, but mine is not, and if our cars were to battle, mine would stand about as much chance of staying intact as carton of Ben & Jerry's in a communal fridge.
And the speed limit on the highway is not thirty-five mph, despite what you seem to believe. If you insist on doing 35 in the right lane, you have a right to it. You do not, however, have a right to the far lane and the middle lane. This is especially true when I am driving alongside you. Much as you cannot pull half your car out into traffic, forcing people to stop, and then leave it there for an interminable amount of time, so can you not take two lanes of traffic. Pick a lane and stick to it. I know, however, that this is difficult for you, which is why I encourage you to get off the road.
All of us do things poorly that we want to pretend we're excellent at. I can't do The Worm properly, but I can't stop myself from trying. You can't drive, but you can't stop yourself from getting on the road. I think it's time we owned up to our failings, loved each other anyway, and stopped trying to drive/breakdance, for everyone's good.
-She-Who-Has-Enough-Trouble-Driving-As-It-Is
P.S. And to everyone who has a one-hundred-year-old grandma who still insists on driving, club her or steal her keys or something, because even though I laugh when you tell me about her, I live in fear after hearing those stories.
The elderly, driving-impaired citizens of America have characterized almost all of my interactions with senior citizens. I would visit my grandparents in Florida (commonly mistaken to be the Sunshine State, while it is in fact the Old Guy in a Caddy State) every spring break. Every once in a while as my dad and I were in the car, he would slam on the brakes and throw his arm in front of my chest. Innocent, at age seven, I had only the most vague understanding of why my father looked at the Cadillacs in fear.
There are some basic rules of driving that seem to have slipped the memory. For instance, if you're trying to enter the road from your driveway, you can't just wheel half of your steel tank out into the road just as I'm about to go past you, and then stop. Either you're coming or you're going, and the slow inching is a disaster in the making. Your car may be built to survive those still pending attacks from the Commies, but mine is not, and if our cars were to battle, mine would stand about as much chance of staying intact as carton of Ben & Jerry's in a communal fridge.
And the speed limit on the highway is not thirty-five mph, despite what you seem to believe. If you insist on doing 35 in the right lane, you have a right to it. You do not, however, have a right to the far lane and the middle lane. This is especially true when I am driving alongside you. Much as you cannot pull half your car out into traffic, forcing people to stop, and then leave it there for an interminable amount of time, so can you not take two lanes of traffic. Pick a lane and stick to it. I know, however, that this is difficult for you, which is why I encourage you to get off the road.
All of us do things poorly that we want to pretend we're excellent at. I can't do The Worm properly, but I can't stop myself from trying. You can't drive, but you can't stop yourself from getting on the road. I think it's time we owned up to our failings, loved each other anyway, and stopped trying to drive/breakdance, for everyone's good.
-She-Who-Has-Enough-Trouble-Driving-As-It-Is
P.S. And to everyone who has a one-hundred-year-old grandma who still insists on driving, club her or steal her keys or something, because even though I laugh when you tell me about her, I live in fear after hearing those stories.
posted by Meredith at 7:31 AM
5 Comments:
Amen.
(And hey, if anyone goes about stealing their grandma's keys, I know a certain California girl *cough* who could use a car. :P )
hey so by the way this has nothing to do with your post but you're not online for me to tell you: i have this line of procrastination,
yahoo mail
exeter mail
myspace
livejournal
and just when i get sad because i've run out of ways to not do work, i remember:
I BET THERE'S A NEW B.T. POST!
and lo and behold,
you make wishes happen.
love, katie
I live to serve.
Ha! Agreed. Now Meredith... do you feel better?
Immensely.
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