Calling Out the Elderly

Attention, all people of elderly status, stop driving. All of you. Every time someone is going slow, holding up traffic, frustrating everyone around them, they are either on the phone, over 60, or both. (suspenseful music). Today, I had the privilege of a first hand experience with one of these "old chatters". First of all, who can they possibly be talking to? Second of all, how did they figure out how to work the cell phone in the first place? I was on my way to my bass lesson, which is around 10 minutes away. So, I leave about ten minutes before the lesson. Bad move. I totally forgot to factor in the old cell phone talking drivers. Terrible mistake. Two drivers, both pushing 80, using their cell phones, while going around 25 in a 40. One female (Jesus.) and the other male. The female, your standard Grandma figure, straight out of your family re

union. Bushy grey hair, obnoxious white pearl necklace, thick giant glasses, you get th

e point. (Its scary how much this picture actually looks like the lady. I typed that description before I found this, eerie...) She was texting, (if she knew how to text, which is unlikely) not really paying any attention to the road, (if she knew she was on the road), and setting up a blockade of the entire street with her fellow elderly companion, the male. The male seemed like the drunken grandfather who beats the shit out of his grand kids. Balding, with some hair on the sides, also wearing glasses, straight out of the bathtub wrinkly. He was yelling into the phone, which supports my previous thoughts about him, and constantly rummaging through his backseat, eyes clearly nowhere near the road. These two were neck and neck the whole race, until the train tracks. Apparently Mr. Elderly didn't want the tracks to damage his Model T, because he felt the need to slow almost to a stop on the tracks. God forbid a train was coming at that exact moment, he wouldn't have made it out of there. I saw the opening, and sped up behind Mrs. Elderly, to try to "thread the needle". Right when I go to change lanes in front of Mr. Elderly, he speeds up just fast enough not to let me pass, while at the same time Mrs. Elderly must have been startled by something, because she slams on her brakes. I'm left out to dry, slamming my brakes in just enough time to stop me from ending up in the back seat of Mrs. Elderly's beat up car. I finally stroll into the bass lesson, a miserable 10 minutes late. And who is walking into the store next to me? Mr. Elderly. What store is it? Sarah Lee. Find me anyone young who shops at Sarah Lee. I dare you. Moral of the story: Know your limits old people. Your eyes are going, your hearing isn't what it used to be, your reactions are damn slow. Public transportation.

Pretty irrelevant. I laughed anyway.