I know the sixteen year old kid who was flying down the street past my house, well over the speed limit. When he came back by the second time driving close to the speed of sound, I was able to wave him down. Here’s what I said …
“Mike, (I’ve changed the name to protect him from his momma who may read this blog) I know you just got your license and a new truck, but man, you were flying down my street way too fast. Do you see that house back over there?” I said, pointing my finger over across the street as he nodded his head that he understood. “That’s where the Darter’s live and they have four boys that walk over to my house regularly. And this house across the street has three children who are always outside playing.” I continued pointing out houses to him including my own. “Now that’s at least 14 kids I’ve just pointed out to you. I like all these kids, or at least most of them, and I don’t want to have to do a funeral for any of them just because you were driving too fast. Make sense?” I asked him. Again he nodded his head as if he understood and even mumbled a, “Yes Sir!” once. “Now, if you just have to go driving down the street at 100 miles an hour, do it down someone else’s street and not down mine anymore, okay?” I could tell he understood what I was trying to tell him.
I smiled, patted him on the arm, and told him to have a good day. He drove off very slowly. I felt pride in my little speech as I walked back towards my house. Then it hit me, and all my pride rushed from my body! I had just become the same “old grouch on the block” that I swore I’d never be back when I was a sixteen year old driver.
I’m feeling really old and uncool today.