So I was driving home from work today minding my own business, singing Fergie on the radio, when just as I approached a downtown intersection, I heard sirens. I slowed down though the light had just turned green and we were barely driving at a snail's pace anyway, and looked 360-degrees around me. To my left, just arriving at the intersection, was an ambulance in full alert status - lights, siren, AND weird-emergency-vehicle-horn. So I put on my brakes and slowed down further.
And at precisely that moment a horn directly behind me blared! I looked in my rearview mirror to see who the inattentive asshole was. It was a blue-haired, barely-see-over-the-steering-wheel, walker-jockey who was driving her doddering husband (or lover - who am I to judge) around in their gold Impala.
And I drove the rest of the way home wondering: since when did Grandmas get so bitchy? I SOOOOO wanted to put Lucy in park, walk back to her driver's side window and ask her if the nasty-horn- sounding was really necessary and if that was how her mother raised her to behave. But I didn't. I just came home instead, chuckling at how crummy her life must be if she has to honk at those going slower than what she considers optimal intersection traversing velocity.
5 comments:
Maybe this is the week for rude behavior. My toddler is also acting a little crazy - be very happy you don't have one of those screaming at you too.
But really, I thought grandmas were supposed to be sweet. Especially the blue hair variety. You probably saved her life and the life of her lover because apparently she couldn't hear the screaming sirens.
I watched a car pull out right in front of a blaring, light blasting fire engine the other night. That car is just lucky it didn't get T-boned. How do you not hear those things.
When it happened, the first thing I thought was "Jeez, I can't wait to tell Rach This One!". Then I laughed, all by myself.
She's old, she doesn't have long to live, and you are slowing her down. Move it, you whippersnapper!
So glad you told me! I've been thinking of scenarios to explain her rushed behavior. They are all dirty and involve her elder 'lover'. Gross, right? Or maybe she needed to get home to the medication cabinet. Or Bingo. Why am I still thinking about this old crotchety woman? I guess it's better than thinking about Heath Ledger. There will never be a BrokeBack Mountain Part 2. Bummer.
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