Friday, October 23, 2009

Anatomy of an Idiot

I am driving down a busy street, heading to pilates, as usual. I am driving within the confines of the speed limit, as Trophy Wives do not endanger the lives of others with their automobiles. I notice a cute old Grandpa-type driving beside me in an older brown sedan. He has silvery hair and very large spectacles. All the better to see you with my dear. I wonder briefly if the Big Bad Wolf has swallowed his wife.

I am jarred from my reverie when the light ahead turns yellow. Grandpa and I both make the (correct) decision to brake. It is a firm-brake situation. Not a slam-brake, not a gentle-brake. Firm.

Grandpa and I are both coming to a firm stop. In my rear view mirror I see a pickup truck coming to a gentle brake behind me, as the lady (likely a Trophy Wife also) has allowed plenty of distance to stop. The whole car-length theory in action.

But Grandpa's situation is different. Because he is being followed by an idiot.

Idiot, who is in his mid-20's and has a nasty goatee, is driving a white Yukon that is raised. Yes, raised, because a Yukon certainly is not already far enough off the ground. And it is modified, meaning it can be heard in the next county.

So, Grandpa can hear clearly that Idiot is accelerating at the yellow light. But Grandpa is firm-braking at the yellow light. Grandpa is alarmed. Idiot realizes he is an idiot (however briefly) and begins the slam-brake option. But it is too late to stop in time.

So, Idiot skids to Grandpa's right, which is a public sidewalk and comes to rest, two wheels perched on the curb, but interestingly, clearly behind the limit line.

Grandpa is pounding his steering wheel and cursing, probably, but I'm a lousy lipreader. Idiot is ignoring everything, swirling his nasty goatee in his fingers, probably a nervous habit. Meanwhile, the Yukon is perched on the curb, as Idiot guns it repeatedly, waiting for a green light.

Light turns green. In case Idiot has not made the point yet that he is an idiot, he floors the Yukon. Yukon jerks off the curb, squeals down the street, careening across lanes, sounding a little like the space shuttle.

So, in summary: What an idiot.

Why does the Big Bad Wolf swallow sweet old ladies when he could be doing the world a favor by eating all the idiots?

2 comments:

Doug said...

I always hate it when the person following you assumes you are going to run the yellow light. Never assume because you know what that means - Yes idiot!

Amanda P said...

At least he didn't hit grandpa!