Oh, How Mrs. HM Wishes She Was Commissioner Of The Bad-Driver Police

I made three stops in town on Monday. Each one included a bad driver. What are the odds??? It's like Mrs. HM is a magnet for these rumpusholes!

When I came out of the Gas Station Chicken Store, I passed a person walking in from the direction I had parked T-Hoe in my rightful handicap space. This man was late 30s/early 40s. No sign of any affliction that would make him differently-abled. 

When I got to T-Hoe, I saw only one other vehicle on that side of the building. A red pickup truck, fairly new. It was parked BESIDE T-Hoe. That's the driving lane, people. Not a parking space of any kind. It blocks access to the diesel gas pumps, and a way out of the lot.

As I was climbing into T-Hoe, a white sedan drove around the other side of the diesel pumps, to get to the FREE AIR hose in front of T-Hoe. The guy had his window down as he pulled in with his nose towards the air hose. He was rassen-frassen to his woman in the passenger seat. I'm pretty sure it was about the rumpushole parked in the driving lane.

At my next stop, the Casey's across the moat, I could not access my rightful handicap space, because a gray sedan was parked there. No handicap plate, no handicap placard. The car was running, but nobody was inside. I parked to the right of it, even farther from the door, in front of the dumpster area. There were very few customers parked in front of the store, but there might have been, when that gray sedan parked.

I was the first person to the register. While I was waiting for the clerk to come back to the counter, some women got behind me, with several children of young school age. They were clamoring for their treats. Not to fault the kids. They had spent a day in school, and were finally free, and no doubt hungry.

Once I was back in T-Hoe, this party came out. Of course they were parked in the handicap space. I took time to write the location on the back of my tickets. But these gals were not leaving. In fact, the passenger had both front and back doors open. I suppose buckling in those three kids, and waiting to get in herself. The gray sedan was parked all cattywompus in the handicap space. I was reluctant to back out, lest T-Hoe's side mirror strike the gal who was standing at the back door. I waited until she got inside, though she left the passenger door open.

But wait! Over at 10Box, my last stop, for bananas and Vidalia onions, I was again accosted by a bad driver. I was backing out of one of my four rightful handicap spaces. Rolling. Backup lights on, in motion. But a shiny blue mini-sedan felt it was necessary to whiz past T-Hoe's rear way too fast for that driving lane in front of the door.

Common sense should dictate that shoppers may be coming out of that area, unable to see past the cars parked there. AND that when a backing vehicle is in motion, it has the right-of-way. Anybody coming up on its path should yield. But no. Common sense is a rare commodity in Backroads. 

If I was Commissioner of the Bad-Driver Police, I would throw the book at those rumpusholes! At the speed of a major-league baseball pitcher. Not to hurt them. Just to knock some sense into them.