Ok, it could be, "I'm a Millenial; I have a BMW; I can do what I want!". I have no chance with my Toyota Rav4. Oh, and I'm not a Millenial. I am not even in the same territory as a Millenial. That's a subject for another day.
It's bad enough that traffic in Los Angeles is apparently the worst in the country. The powers that be encourage use of public transportation, but public transportation in Southern California has nothing in common with say that of New York or San Francisco. You can go from certain cities to others, but the lines are just too short. Truth be told, though, even if they extended and connected the lines, I wouldn't ride. Been there. Done that. For 27 years as a Bronx-ite. And you can sell it any way you want, being one of the sardines in the car isn't something I plan on going back to, God willing and the creek don't rise.
I love to drive. I just don't love the twenty somethings who think I can read their minds as they dart in front of me with their cool cars with nary a signal.
You'd think it would be only the guys. Oh, no. Often it is the young women with a left hand flung with studied casual-ness out the window, flicking a cigarette. She must not mind if I get the benefit of the second hand ashes flying back my way.
So, I might be at a cross-walk waiting for that pedestrian with an I-phone in one hand and a Starbuck's half-caf, soy latte in the other to pass, and an impatient young one with places to go and people to see, will give several short irritated honks. I have, on occasion, put my left hand out of the window--and pointed, using my index finger--I promise-at the person in front of my car inhibiting my ability to get out of the way.
Such haste resulted in a happily not serious accident a few months ago. I was on Fountain Avenue. A young woman left her garage and instead of turning right, she blocked my way to turn left. The young men behind me were clearly impatient as I heard them move around to my left and smack into the young woman's car before she'd quite completed the turn. No one was hurt. But it was a clear case of comparative negligence.
Uh, oh, I may break out in a chorus of "What's the Matter With Kids Today" from Bye Bye Birdie.
Not all of them, of course, (I know several who are terrific, whose parents taught them that the sun does not shine out of their, well you know) but here in La La land, way too many.
Hey kids, go ahead vote for Bernie. He believes in redistribution of money and property. Maybe I can have your Porsche. Happy to give you my Rav4.
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