Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Road Rage

#266 Road Rage

Driving along, minding my own business, signal for a lane change. There’s a blind spot on the right side, but there seems to be a car in it – you get so you can sort of sense that after a few decades.

So, back into the original lane. And, yes, there was a car there, and she pulls up even. Cookie cutter Stonewall County Blonde. They have an endless number here. Well dressed, made up, and giving the finger.

So let’s pull up to the grandpa mobile ahead of her and in her lane, and pace it so she can’t pass.

She can’t pass. Keeping the same speed as Grandpa, at just above the speed limit. And Cookie can’t pass. So she shifts lanes again, and raises the finger again, and you can sense the steam coming out of her ears. Maybe even see it a little bit.

How long can this keep up before Cookie explodes? But she doesn’t. Instead, she makes a turn and vanishes. With any luck, forever.

Probably ruined her day. She was probably late to work. Or school. Nah. Not school. Eighth graders can’t drive.

Or maybe they can. An eleven year old was recently busted in Alabama for leading police on a 100 mph chase. She also was drunk out of her mind. Her excuse? “I had to pick my brother up at a concert.”

Can they bust you for driving without a license when you’re not old enough to have a license? Speeding? Sure. DUI? Sure. But what about that license thing? It’s Alabama. Where the age of consent is nine. Unless you’re married. Then, it’s older. Maybe 12.

The drinking age also would be nine, except the state doesn’t get federal highway money unless it puts the drinking age at 21. And in Alabama, that federal highway money buys a lot of politicians. (Here in Stonewall County, of course, none of that happens.) But that kickback money’s gotta come from somewhere!

As for Cookie, she’s probably the kind who has pink stuffed animals decorating her room, has a bubble handwriting, dots her “I” with a little heart, goes to church every Sunday, and each day, says her prayers and screams obscenities at her mother. And at the cop who will at some point in the near future, pull her over for speeding, reckless lane changing and failure to signal. (She’ll try batting her eyes and wiggling her hips first, but that won’t work. A ticket quota is a ticket quota. And around here, federal highway bribes don’t go the distance.)

I'm Wes Richards, my opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.

(c) 2007 WJR

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