The road in front of Biscuit's day care is a busy four-lane street with a turn lane in the middle. The problem is that you have to get into that turn lane just after passing through an intersection. And there are those oh-so-nice drivers going the other direction who get into the turn lane about half a block before the intersection and often have to swerve back out of the turn lane to keep from running head on into us.
They desperately want to make a left at the intersection and don't seem to understand why I need to be in their way in the turn lane.
I've complained about this from the first day I took Biscuit to day care. Jeff has empathized with me, but he had never experienced it for himself until last week.
He offered to take Biscuit to day care one morning when I was running late, and I took him up on it. Jeff said he turned on his blinker and pulled into the turn lane. As he looked up, this old white station wagon was barreling toward them, moving gradually into the turn lane. He said he was starting to get nervous because the car wasn't slowing down fast enough.
Finally, the station wagon came to a stop right in front of his car. Behind the wheel was an 80-year-old woman. Jeff smiled and motioned to the day care center to let her know why he was where he was. And she just stared at him and sat there. So he motioned again, and this time even mouthed the words, "I'm going to the day care center."
I'm not sure if the woman was half-blind and couldn't see what Jeff was trying to tell her or if she was just mean, but the next thing Jeff knew, that little old lady's arthritic middle finger popped up from behind her steering wheel. Then she yanked the wheel of her car back into traffic almost getting plowed by a truck.
Jeff was so stunned by her actions, he didn't know whether to be mad or just laugh at her. I guess there isn't an age limit on road rage.
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