I’m clearly getting old.
How do I know this? Because everyone but me drives like a maniac.
It’s true. No signals. No brakes. No checking over the shoulder before whipping into the lane RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.
And, okay, I’ve had my share of road faux pas. But still. They’re all maniacs.
What’s everyone got to get to so dang fast? Is riding the ass of the person in front of you (me) really going to engender any sense of urgency? I tell you what I do when someone tailgates me.
I slam on the brakes.
Okay, so I tap the brakes. Maybe a bunch of times. And sometimes I’ll just pull over. That’s when I’m feeling pacific. But a lot of time I’m just thinking, Go for it, you idiot. Slam right into me. Then won’t you feel stupid.
This ignores the possibility that then won’t I also feel HURT. Eh. It’s a fantasy.
I was in the large, pulsating apple this past weekend, and hey – there are a lot of people walking around. To get places. It’s AWESOME. I always love getting swept up in the momentum that is Manhattan. The cars there are nutters too, but everyone seems to have this tacit agreement: Go when you can go, and stop if someone or something is in front of you.
Pedestrians cross when no cars are coming. I caught myself waiting dutifully at the red hand, and watched in confusion as everyone swept