--“Folks are worried about global warming and social security, when the real crisis is that one day elderly drivers will learn how to text!” -@Cravin4
That day is here my friends. I admit that I put on mascara and search for lipstick while driving, but I simply do not participate in texting, mainly because I usually cannot find my glasses and could not read a text even if I wanted to.
My new partner should be in jail for texting, mapping, e-mailing, and weather radar checking, as he has violated all of these activities while driving down the highway.
Indeed the younger generation should be afraid, very afraid. I am afraid! Thank you Lord for the loud, bumpy lane markers on the highways, although we spend a great deal of time on farm roads and levees. His jolt to look up from his phone could be a sharp curve, or a muddy turn row. He swears he knows every road and shortcut through the state, and most of Tennessee, Arkansas, and Louisiana. I think I believe him. We have not crashed thus far and honestly we have not come close. He says his “tech” skills while driving are impeccable.
He may have it all together in his big Land Yacht on the highway, but several months ago he was put to the test in his daughter’s new mini-van.
We had to go somewhere in her car because of the little grandchildren we were toting in car seats. None of this seatbelt wearing, or “just hold on tight, we are just going down the road,” like my parents did. Everyone must be totally strapped in, including us, or the car will not stop beeping at you. No big deal, but the Big Guy could not get the car cranked because he was not familiar with the “push the button thing” to start the car. Reverse was hysterical as he could not locate the gears. The whole time the little girls were squealing at the top of their lungs, “Mama, please drive us! Papa Russell doesn't know how to drive anymore!” I felt rather ignorant as well, the new cars are a bit different since the last one I bought. I tried to act like I knew what to do to get the car in gear and all I did was turn on the wipers and washers for the front and back windshields. On top of that, two different Disney movies were blaring from TV’s behind our heads that I was not familiar with. My head was starting to hurt.
Time marches on, and I had a flashback of trying to teach my mother how to use the cell phone, which she never did. There was no cord and she just could not get beyond that. I remembered my father-in-law refusing to switch the farm payroll over to a computer instead of paying in cash or writing paychecks by hand. “Computers are a fad and I am not fooling with any of them,” he would say.
We are becoming them!
It gets worse. I do not fly that much anymore since my partner enjoys the countryside and highways so much. Airline tickets are not exactly what they used to be.
Inside the New Orleans airport there are kiosks everywhere to scan your ticket and receive a boarding pass. All we had was an email from American Airlines and our drivers licenses that we kept waving in front of the screen, but nothing was happening. Young people with their backpacks and hip carry-ons were zipping right past us, while we stood there with two humongous pieces of circa 1998 American Tourister black suitcases, two matching carry-ons, plus my giant purse.
Finally, a sweet ticket agent from American came over and asked if she could help us. I have never felt more like Fred and Ethel Mertz in my whole life, and she looked twelve. She glanced at the email, punched in some numbers and bingo! Out popped two boarding passes. All I needed now was a weekly beauty shop appointment to get my helmet-hair done, a swim-dress instead of a suit, a glass of sherry before bed, and I was there! Elder-hood! We checked our dinosaur bags and I went and bought a Glamour magazine.
We made it to Miami and walked five miles to get the rental car; somehow we missed the sign that told you to take the train to the rental car area. At about mile two, I told my new partner that if he had gone cheap on a car to drive down through the Florida Keys, like a Vega or an old Impala, I might become difficult. When we arrived at the land of rental cars, I found a chair and waited while he went for the car. Moments later a new black Mercedes pulled up and a little guy hopped out. “Your car, lady!” My pal walked up with a big grin and a skip in his step, “They upgraded us! They did not have the car I ordered,” he said with glee! “Just what did you order?” I asked. “Aw, it doesn’t matter now! Let’s go!” he said. Hmmm, I could only imagine as I looked around at the graveyard of undesirables. We hoisted the black troglodytes in the back of the car and just sat there and stared at this amazing dashboard. We both started pushing buttons and touching screens and once again nothing! “How do you start the dad-durn car!” We both shouted. Finally another twelve year old that worked for Hertz, but did not speak much English, came over and spouted out a few instructions. We understood nothing except “Get out I show you!”
Great! The car was running, but where were the gears? We finally found “D” for drive, and then exited the parking lot on to a very, very busy boulevard.
There were small groups of people walking and dancing on the sidewalks and in the street. They all looked just like the Kardashians! Taxis, horns screaming, blinding lights everywhere, loud Cuban music coming from every restaurant and club, and Oh Lord, he is looking at his phone to map us to the hotel!
Miami is New York on steroids, and I knew we going to run over someone or get murdered by machine guns and never be seen again.
I have seen “Scarface” several times!
Thankfully the hotel was only a couple of blocks from wherever we were, and I could not wait to get out of that lovely car. Naturally a handful of youngsters were waiting on us, Fred and Ethel, to take our luggage and the car, which they had no problem driving at all.
“I need a Cuba Libre about right now,” I said. I have not had one since college, and it seemed like the right drink to order given the level of stress.
Fred took Ethel straight to the bar, and once again Fred gave Ethel exactly what she wanted. It was the most delicious cocktail I have ever had and I did not feel my age one bit! In fact, we went out after all of that, had dinner, more drinks, and stayed out way past dark-thirty!
We did have pie before turning in.
