youth and enthusiasm...
A thought occurred to me the other day. Both the race car driver and the fighter pilot use speed and mad maneuvering skills to defeat their opponents. But the race car driver is using those skills to get ahead of the other guy. The fighter pilot is using them to get behind him.
The other day I was driving on the 101 and this sedan blew by me in traffic like something out of Talladega Nights. And, expecting to see a wannabe Ricky Bobby, I turned to catch a glimpse of this skilled but frightening driver. I swear this woman probably played the organ at church maybe thirty or forty years ago. The sweetest looking little old lady, thin with grandmotherly grey hair, and the intense look of a fighter pilot in her blessed old eyes.
Usually my experience with elderly drivers has been the opposite, though. But as much as sometimes I would like to be frustrated with the grey-haired man driving a Buick like it was a mule, I just can't really work up that kind of emotion any more for several reasons.
For one thing, I can't help but think that there is a good chance that this guy was driving a tank across Europe or Korea, or a landing craft in the Pacific while facing enemy fire, say 50 or 60 years ago. So if he drives his car like a tank now, he's probably earned the right. Perhaps he didn't, but I should probably give him the benefit of the doubt.
Another reason is that I think about the changes that have taken place in these peoples' lifetimes. I remember the way my grandfather held the steering wheel when he was driving. I asked my dad one time why he did it that way. I guess on the old tractors (maybe new ones, too) there was a knob for turning it around. And, though he was a great driver, he still drove his Oldsmobile like it was an International Harvester. I remember him talking once about how when he was a kid, you were lucky to see a biplane come to town crop dusting or barnstorming, and when he had grey hair we were putting shuttles in orbit regularly.
But I suppose the biggest reason for me is that I can't help but think about those people who I know and love who are old and full of life, who age has finally come upon, and who have to reconcile themselves to their bodies not working the way they once did and to watching their spouses' worlds grow smaller and smaller as they are able to do less and less.
All that to say, I think it is important to respect our elders, that our days may be long in the land. We'll get there soon enough.
And at the same time, I must say that the 55-year old guy with his captain's hat who intentionally dodges in to cut me off in his shiny Cadillac because he thinks he deserves the road more than I do... that dude is fair game.
The other day I was driving on the 101 and this sedan blew by me in traffic like something out of Talladega Nights. And, expecting to see a wannabe Ricky Bobby, I turned to catch a glimpse of this skilled but frightening driver. I swear this woman probably played the organ at church maybe thirty or forty years ago. The sweetest looking little old lady, thin with grandmotherly grey hair, and the intense look of a fighter pilot in her blessed old eyes.
Usually my experience with elderly drivers has been the opposite, though. But as much as sometimes I would like to be frustrated with the grey-haired man driving a Buick like it was a mule, I just can't really work up that kind of emotion any more for several reasons.
For one thing, I can't help but think that there is a good chance that this guy was driving a tank across Europe or Korea, or a landing craft in the Pacific while facing enemy fire, say 50 or 60 years ago. So if he drives his car like a tank now, he's probably earned the right. Perhaps he didn't, but I should probably give him the benefit of the doubt.
Another reason is that I think about the changes that have taken place in these peoples' lifetimes. I remember the way my grandfather held the steering wheel when he was driving. I asked my dad one time why he did it that way. I guess on the old tractors (maybe new ones, too) there was a knob for turning it around. And, though he was a great driver, he still drove his Oldsmobile like it was an International Harvester. I remember him talking once about how when he was a kid, you were lucky to see a biplane come to town crop dusting or barnstorming, and when he had grey hair we were putting shuttles in orbit regularly.
But I suppose the biggest reason for me is that I can't help but think about those people who I know and love who are old and full of life, who age has finally come upon, and who have to reconcile themselves to their bodies not working the way they once did and to watching their spouses' worlds grow smaller and smaller as they are able to do less and less.
All that to say, I think it is important to respect our elders, that our days may be long in the land. We'll get there soon enough.
And at the same time, I must say that the 55-year old guy with his captain's hat who intentionally dodges in to cut me off in his shiny Cadillac because he thinks he deserves the road more than I do... that dude is fair game.
posted by yonderincarp at 16:02
2 Comments:
Yeah, that dude is fair game.
The funny thing though, I never thought of race car drivers vs pilots. That's a scary way of thinking about things. I used to love that old Nintendo game Top Gun more than racing games. I think I'll rather be behind someone. Then I could see what deviousness they're up to.
Yeah. Top Gun was a great game! And Mike Tyson's Punch Out.
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