OLD DRIVERS

I'm not fond of or convinced by the 'elderly'.

Actually - and I know Times wingèd chariot and all - I am greatly pissed off and generally venomous of attitude to wrinklies, and when I say 'wrinkly' I know of what I write and will not therefore go into detail and cause you to spew up over your keyboard.

But to this doddering oldie who scrunched his old lady: listen, you crumbling wreck - STFU about the car ... it was you. Even as she felt her brittle bones snap crackle and grandpop, your lady thought resignedly,

"He did it. He actually did it. That idiot fumbling fart, I knew he'd be the death of me one day."

And you are, not just guilty of being old and still around past your Euthanase-by date - way past guiding even a supermarché trolley.

My family doesn't do well by the decrepit.

Some years back, my wife and younger daughter had parked to shop and this whacking great SUV was reversing or traversing or whatever. Anna had opened the door and was half out and the fucking SUV was crumpling the door in on her. People were shouting at the old geezer but he was too deaf or senile to know.

Finally, someone had to slam their shopping down across the hood.

His wheezing excuse: "I never saw you."

I called our excellent insurance man and gave all the details that my excellent wife had collected from all witnesses. I told Gary,

"I want this to really hurt. Think 'jury' at the slightest senile effort to pass this off as a mere accident."

I wouldn't even accept his smarmy insurance agent's suggested garage for the repairs.

I monitored my venal balls-busting revenge on a daily basis. The old man had the gall to imagine himself 'good with words' and phoned me with his sonorous basso profundo to 'talk it over like adults.'

I called him once a day to check his memory of the previous day's chat and to run thru my checklist of audiologist, optician, shrink ...

Then 2 years ago my big girl was hit at 0700hrs on a pedestrian crossing that sent her across the road with accompanying breakage of skin but not bones.

Again, "I didnt see you," croaked the 70+ year-old driver after finally pulling over, many yards down, when the hooting of horns and cornering of bikers and slamming on his roof persuaded him that he might not be able to out-run this one.

Three score years and 10. Pedestrian walkway. Didn't see her.

Georgina said there was an instant circle of witnesses, and of course when its a sweet-faced young girl that's skidded past your wheels, you want to hammer the fart who almost made you a killer.

Long time in chiropractory and hobblery and she has to talk walk past there every day. I know she's alive but it was this old fart kept her from visiting with Anna this summer. Grr.

So pieces like this don't fool me.

I live with an ancienne so the brake pads of patience are scraped brittle bone dry on that one, matron.

But lo! Who commenteth here and saves me from making even more of a charlie of moi-même?

Quicker than a flash, umpteen times caller Simon Baddeley shares Murder by Motorcar.

His anger-kindled intro:

"It's not just the decrepit, its the decrepit at the wheel of 2000 kilos of metal, and take it further - not just the old. My anger is kindled."

"On the 25th of March, 2000, Jane Louisa Puffit, 21 years old, and her friend Stacey Parrey, were killed by a drunk and incompetent driver who was permitted to plead guilty to the minor infraction of "dangerous driving," and accept a punishment modest out of proportion with his culpability.

The link at the beginning is to an excerpt from a letter written in reaction to this juridical convenience by Simon Baddeley, of the School of Public Policy, Birmingham University, England, to Ms. Puffit's parents, followed by a statement from them explaining the effect this "accident" had upon their lives."