She Doesn’t Own a Gun, But….

This person I know doesn’t own a gun (I’m pretty sure.),

Didn’t spank her kids who worked through some excruciatingly exasperating adolescent passages to become, well, pretty productive young adults

(She always said that discipline was a matter of tone.),

Eschews violence on TV, greets people with “Namaste” and an ever present authentic smile, and enjoys NPR, the talk shows and the classical music, on the radio in her

fuel efficient, squeaky clean emissions emitting hybrid.

Which brings me to the point – her driving.

This morning I saw her slide right through a stop sign and then across a bike path, looking neither left nor right, at the corner of the road.

Thank God I was behind her and there weren’t any cyclists crossing from either direction.

I remembered once when I was in front and she ran up my car’s rear end. I wished that I had had that bumper sticker that said, “Unless You’re a Hemorrhoid Get off My Ass.”  I can’t say that to this gentle soul.

She puts the pedal to the metal in a most fuel inefficient way cutting her gas mileage down to, say, thirty miles per gallon while going sixty in a forty-five mph zone;

She brakes a lot because she never leaves a car length for every ten miles per hour;

She never leaves a car length; she crosses solid yellow lines; she passes on hills and I don’t mean on the way down.

So, should I tell this flower-child like pacifistically inclined mom that when she is on the road,

She is Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jan Claude Van Damme all rolled into

Lethal Weapon 1, 2, 3 and 4?

Maybe if I prefaced any remarks by holding up two fingers in a peace sign….

Maybe next time I see her in my rear view mirror, I’ll just pull over quickly and let her pass.

She’ll never see me; I know this because we will be listening to the same show.

She’ll be really focused on what Terry Gross is asking her child/adolescent psychologist guest.