Old People Belong on Scooters
Published June 23, 2012
Today, there was an incident on the street I live on that really pisses me off. A neighbor from down the street somehow managed to plow his 1990something full-size pickup into a RED compact SUV parked in the street. Now correct me if I am wrong, but A. you have better visibility sitting up higher in a truck, B. red is a color that is hard to miss, and C., it was 9am on a nice, sunny Cleveland day so there was no reason not to see a parked car. Apparently, I must be wrong, because Mr. Old Fart sent that poor SUV forward into a driveway about 15 feet. Seeing that the speed limit on my street is 25mph, it does not take a mathematician to figure out he was speeding.
Now, if that was not bad enough, Mr. Old Fart gets out of the truck to see what he had done, and low and behold, he has an air cast on his right leg. Now for those of you that are familiar with these, they are a big bulky cast type medical device that you blow up with air and Velcro to your leg if you have an injury. It is about the same size as a regular cast, and allows about the same amount of movement, NONE. Then, as he started walking, I noticed he has a little bit of a wobble. Well I come to find out he just got regular license plates back after having the pretty yellow and red DUI plates that Ohio gives to those who get caught drunk driving. They are affectionately called “party plates”, which I think they should be allowed to be personalized, you know like “DUIXTEN”, or “JUST1MORE”, so at least people can hurry up and get the hell out of the way of your dumb ass.
I am sure you are shaking your head by now at the sheer neglect of the Ohio Department of Motor Vehicles to keep Mr. Old Fart on a jazzy scooter where he belongs. How about he has a homemade steel bar attached to the front of his front bumper, with spikes on it. Last I checked Mad Max took place in Australia so WHAT THE HELL?
As I do live in suburbia, this little incident brought out most of the neighbors to discuss the sheer ignorance of Mr. Old Fart, who retreated to inside of his truck; for fear that we were organizing a lynch mob of some type. The officer that arrived to take the report was very polite, and looked quite annoyed with Mr. Old Fart, like the rest of us. This is not the end of the story yet, there is more unbelievably.
Mr. Old Fart, while enjoying the comfort and cleanliness of the back of the police car giving his side of the story, informed the polite but annoyed officer that his truck was out of gas. By this time, I am questioning how Mr. Old Fart even finds his way out of bed in the morning, especially after he had the balls to ask the police officer to take him to go get some gas. Would you like the police officer to pay for it too, jackass? The officer dropped Mr. Old Fart off at his house, and not five minutes later, he starts staggering back down to his truck, gas can in hand, to put gas in his truck.
As soon as Mr. Old Fart was done, the few of us that were still outside talking scattered like cockroaches when the lights come on in fear of being plowed over like squirrels by Mr. Old Fart with the Mad Max bumper. Luckily, he made it off the street without any more incidents.
If this is not a clear sign that senior citizens should not drive, I do not know what is. After the age of 60, unless you can prove you can drive like Mario Andretti, people should have their driver’s licenses revoked and be issued a Jazzy scooter, and make sure they have insurance on it. He is just one of the fine senior citizens in my neighborhood who think that driving is just a big game of bumper cars.
Now to what really pisses me off. I, per a physician’s request, AM NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE, because I have back problems that are causing neuropathy. This means because I have a bad back, I cannot drive, and if I do drive and get in an accident, I could lose my license indefinitely for driving against a physician’s orders. Yet, Mr. Old Fart, aka Otis the town drunk, can drive a full-size pickup, with an air cast, a crutch and steel spikes on his bumper. I have three letters for the whole situation W T F!
Categories: Gear Grinding