An Open Letter To The Scum That’s Speeding Down My Street

Dear Neighbor with the SUPER Fast Car,

Howdy, neighbor! I just wanted to drop a quick line telling you that your super awesome fast car is super awesome. I’m a bit jealous (jelly, as my kids are now calling it) that you get to drive something so fast and cool, and little. I fondly remember the days when I drove a five-speed sports car with a convertible top, always down when the weather was gorgeous. But then again, we do live in Florida so that’s always! The music was always up, the wind was in my hair and I loved the feeling of power beneath me as I shifted gears and flew down the roads as if I owned them. Of course, I didn’t have kids back then. My husband and I were child-free and we were enjoying that time before we had kids and had to change our lifestyle. After all, we can’t fit a baby in the back seat of a two-seater convertible, can we? Nope!

Really, though, this is not about me; this is about you and your very cool car. You should enjoy that. There’s nothing more pleasurable than driving around in a car you love and enjoying the freedom that it provides. When I’m alone in the car I love to turn the music up and open the sunroof and just enjoy myself. It’s peaceful and reflective, and very therapeutic for me. I bet is for you, too. I’m going to assume that you don’t have kids, though, since I see you driving down my street with your windows open, your music up and your lead foot on the accelerator all the time. I get it, though. I get that you’re in a hurry. I’m always in a hurry. You should try having four kids that have various places they have to be a certain times every single day, like school and cheerleading practice.

I don’t speed down our street, though. And for that you are very welcome. We have places to go, too, but I don’t speed because I have this really amazing way to get where I’m going on time; I leave on time. This might mean setting my alarm a little earlier, or stopping whatever it is I’m currently doing to leave at the appropriate time. I don’t, however, fly down my street like a bat out of hell. I don’t, because I don’t look good in orange, and I am just too pretty for prison. Maybe that’s vain, but it’s the truth. And if I fly down the street that has so many kids and elderly people living on it, playing, walking, riding their golf carts and walking their dogs, I might hit one of them and injure them, or kill them. Since I wouldn’t do so well in prison, and I don’t want to live with the knowledge that my lack of responsibility in every aspect of my life turning me into a killer, I don’t speed. I’d rather be late. But I can see how we clearly have different priorities. Tomato, Toe-mah-toe, and all that jazz.

I have four kids. And they think that your car is cool, too. Okay, my two older daughters think that your car is pretty loud since you have your music blaring quite regularly. One day with my son, he’s a twin, is old enough to speak and understand cars, I feel he will notice yours. And we will use you as our example to him of how not to drive like a moron. Oh, that reminds me! When my four-year-old daughter was playing outside in our big fenced in yard with her father, older sister and I while our twins napped and you drove by with your music blaring, it was hilarious when she asked us, “What a mother you-know-what,” is. Except she didn’t say you-know-what. She used the “F” word. So funny. Really, we were in stitches.

Oh, that reminds me of something else! Let me catch you flying down this street one more time and putting the lives of my kids at risk yet again and you will also be in stitches. Just not the hilarious kind that we were in when your music taught our daughter a new word; because I will likely put you in a coma if you hit one of my kids in your car. And no, I don’t let my kids play in the street. But you know what I do? I let them check the mail while stand there with them. And I let them play outside with my supervision. And no, I don’t let them go in the street. But do you want to know how many times one of them has lost a ball and went to retrieve it, momentarily forgetting that they are not allowed in or near the street? Do you know how often kids listen to their parents when they perceive no danger in a situation? I’d rather just be safe than sorry.

Oh, and that one time I saw you and I stuck my arm in the air, I was not waving. I was actually giving you the finger, but based on your speed I can see how you might have missed that. Thanks for the return wave, though; it lets me know you see me there. I just hope you see my kids there.

So like I was saying earlier; your car is cool. Too bad it’s going to look a lot less cool if you hit someone’s kid, dog or an elderly person on this street and it has the shape of their injured or dead body on the front of it. That’s not going to win you any new friends or admirers. Oh, maybe it will. Maybe, when you go to jail for manslaughter based on crap driving, you will find someone who admirers you, regularly. How lucky for you! Do you happen to like men, by any chance?

Before I wrap this up, I would like to let you know that I do hope to see you soon. On the side of the road while an officer writes you a very large ticket for driving like a big giant rear end. Oh, and when he does, tell him I said hi. I have called and reported your ludicrous driving habits and you should be expecting to have an officer pay you a visit shortly. Hit my kids because you drive like a jerk and I might change my speeding MO – by trying it out when I see you walking down the street.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down, idiot?

Thanks, and have a lovely day. Slowly.