DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

The other day I was driving down one of our major streets and got behind this older car. After a couple of blocks I started giving it a closer look and the first thought that went through my mind was, “Is anybody driving this thing?” I could not see anyone inside the vehicle. I even weaved back and forth to get different angles of approach and STILL couldn’t see anything.

Finally I pulled up alongside it at the next stoplight and that’s when I saw that there was a driver…but it resembled something out of a comic book. It was an elderly lady who, if she’d had on a purple outfit would have been a Smurf. I don’t think a Cray SuperComputer could have given me the answer as to how she was able to see out the windshield. I wanted to ask her if the new phone books just came out today but that would have been cruel.

As sick as I am I’ve never been one to say things about peoples’ infirmities. Just because they may be classified in the Encyclopedia Britannica as “ugly” doesn’t make me think less of them nor make them fodder for any jokes on my account. Truth-be-told I can be brought to tears seeing some crippled person trying to walk down the street. He (or she) never did anything to deserve that kind of fate. Nor would they have ever had the normal childhood of playing ball or going to school dances or anything that their condition has negated. But, I digress.

This elderly lady had assumed the classic position of someone her size and age; hands in the 11 and 1 position and sighting through the horn ring of the steering wheel.

Far from dwelling on this lady’s physical handicap I got to thinking about what a hazard she was creating for those around her. It’s bad enough she could barely see over the top of the door ledge. How could she gauge distances of vehicles in either of the lane paralleling her? And worse yet, what about some kid or other small critter who was walking across the street.

At some point there’s going to be a situation where the old lady doesn’t expect anyone to be ahead of her, not aware that the person headed out in violation of a “Do Not Walk” warning. Next thing to occur is the woman’s reaction to the obvious bump she just went over that shouldn’t be found on a newly-paved street. That “bump” she just went over was probably Timmy, the now-dead paperboy who saved up his route money for three years to buy a new Smart Phone and was just texting his parents that he was on the way home and looked forward to going to church with them that evening. He’d be going to church, alright, but as a memorial service and not a parishioner.

I honestly don’t want to be cruel about this but unless you’re a certain height you can’t even go to Space Mountain at Disneyworld, the happiest place on earth. But height restrictions don’t preclude you from piloting a two-ton killing machine. I believe there should be an age limit on how long one can drive and a height limit on anyone obtaining a driver’s license.

Granted, such a restriction wouldn’t be quite fair to those born “Little People.” But unless they’re family vehicle is a clown car from Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, anything approach a normal-sized vehicle is going to be too big for them to operate. (As for age restrictions, even commercial airline pilots with tens of thousands of hours in the cockpit have to hang it up at age 65. In other words, today you’re 64 years and 364 days old and you’re captain of a fully-loaded Boeing 777-300ER from Los Angeles to Singapore. Tomorrow you’re too old and the best you can hope to be in charge of is a Cessna 172 with NO revenue passengers aboard.)

Some states actually give drivers licenses to illegals, some who probably can’t speak a word of English. What do they see when they come across a “Dangerous Crossing” sign, “No Habla Crossa?” or “Stoppen das Auto?” Of course not. Unless a really short person has some special seats made for them so they can observe things normally from the driver’s seat much like handicapped people have vans that are specially equipped for their various deformities, then unfortunately they present such a danger to the public around them that sadly, they shouldn’t be issued an operator’s certificate.

And don’t give me this crap about “it will violate their civil rights.” What do you say about your own civil rights after you’ve been mounted physically by a Buick?