Sweet Gummi Mary! The things you learn about yourself when you are not looking for a lesson! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was schooled today by an incident at The Gas Station Chicken Store. Specifically, on the parking lot, where the virtual Nessie of political correctness surfaced for a grainy snapshot.
I'd parked T-Hoe over by the moat that separates the lot from Farmer H's pharmacy, CeilingRed's. As with every time I get ready to leave with my magical elixir, I check the mirrors. Turn around and look. Then take my foot off the brake, and start backing up toward the gas pump island. I continually monitor the mirrors. Passenger side, rearview, driver's side. Continually! As I back slowly. People are crazy around here, and you might recall that T-Hoe's backup beeper has been inoperational for quite some time. So I monitor my backing the old-fashioned way.
Good thing I do! I might have been five feet back from my parking space when a gray Yukon careened around my end of the pumps. Not quite on two wheels, but pretty fast. As you might imagine, I was incensed! Any fool could have seen my backup lights. Known that I was in motion. Common sense dictates that one would stop and wait. For my vehicle to either finish backing out, or come to a stop to let them proceed. That Gray Yukon kept going! Good thing I slammed on the brakes. Good thing they are one of T-Hoe's systems that work.
Once backed out, facing the road that runs behind the GSCS, I saw that the Gray Yukon had parked next to the FREE AIR (if you buy gas) hose. Mrs. HM was not a happy camper. So the expression on her face was most likely a stern one that has been semi-retired with her teaching career, and used sparingly in the presence of Farmer H.
As I drove alongside the Gray Yukon to get to the road, I looked over to see what kind of idiot would so carelessly dart behind a backing T-Hoe.
OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!
The couple inside was of a different race than Mrs. HM.
Here's the thing. Instead of still being ticked off about the careless driving, I felt apologetic! Then I felt guilty! What a monster I was! Further consideration brought up further questions. I do not consider myself an R-cist! But surely I am, even for feeling guilty.
Would I cut any other person a break? NO, I would NOT! So by thinking I shouldn't be ticked off, am I supposing that this Careless Driver didn't know any better? How insulting and condescending is THAT?
Why would I assume that the Careless Driver couple would automatically assume I was an R-cist? That's pretty insulting, too, to assume they'd immediately jump to that conclusion about my frowny face.
What if I saw them parked on our gravel road, and suspected them of being up to no good, LIKE I DO EVERY OTHER PERSON PARKED THERE THAT I DON'T RECOGNIZE? Would I feel guilty about that?
Sheesh! I think my reaction is due to a widespread conspiracy to turn us all against each other, dividing races and religions and political parties and geographic regions and classes and generations. Think about it. TV news is only a 30-minute show. 22 by the time you account for commercials. Of all the stories they can choose from, we generally get at least one that makes sure we take sides, for or against, one of these groups. Same with major online news sources, or cable news networks. They all cover the same stories.
If only we could one day live in a nation where people are judged by the skill of their driving...
If that were the case, the prison beds would hold 20 people each. People are crazy drivers. Could I apply to be the judge?
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteYou can be the judge, as long as I retain powers of jury and executioner. I tell Farmer H all the time, "I can't even go to town and back for a soda without some idiot almost running over me. They drive like THE PONY!"
My theory is that these young (younger than me) whippersnappers are distracted by their phones. That's why they can't stay on their own side of the road. Sure, Farmer H is a jabbing sweaver, but that's from the center line wake-up bumps to the side line wake-up bumps. He MOSTLY stays in his lane. He reserves going down the middle for cresting blind hilltops.
I need to explain to The Pony about stopping if a car is already backing up! I already gave him the talk on proper courtesy to pull over for a funeral procession.
Come to think of it, Genius had a minor fender-bender at college, when he backed out of a space at the same time as a lady across his row at The Devil's Playground. Neither of them would give an inch. To this day, Genius swears he was in the right. I think he even had a dashcam for a while, because he said people always want to blame the young people in a wreck.
I'm not sure it's a full-blown conspiracy, but there are definitely moves afoot to turn us all against each other. we need to stand firm and treat everyone the same no matter their race or religion, and hope 'they' do the same for us. Which means you had every right to blast the Yukon driver with your horn for being careless.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteI didn't think of the horn in my panic to slam on the brakes. Then the moment had passed, so I figured the frowny-face conveying my displeasure would suffice.
In my town, it is about %70 Asian and Indian, (the dot kind, not the native American kind). I know that most driving stereotypes are true. I think that is mostly because they have immigrated from a place where they didn't drive much.
ReplyDeleteThat being said, I have no problem calling out bad drivers no matter what ethnicity they are.
Yes about the conspiracy to divide us all. People seem to forget- together we stand, divided we fall...
MJ
msj,
ReplyDeleteI was all ready to shoot them the death stare, but then I felt bad about it. Which is also problematic, like I'm a reverse R-cist, since I would normally not cut anyone a break for their thickheaded driving carelessness.
Yeah, that divide stuff is all over the media, but I don't see it in person on my daily outings. Folks are nice to people who are nice back, regardless of their differences. I do admit to being a bit of an ageist, due to the impoliteness I've encountered firsthand from the 20-somethings. Like pushing a door closed in my face, or slipping through without giving it the extra-wide swing open with me right behind them.