Bat Outta Hell

Yes, that is the title of the greatest Meat Loaf album ever, but it's not my topic today. When I was younger, I liked the song "Little Old Lady from Pasadena." It was amusing--the idea of a granny with a red sports car who could give the young guys a run for their money on the highway. Well--those little old ladies aren't just in Pasadena anymore; they're here in the Northwoods, too. And I no longer find them so amusing.
The other day I was crossing from the parking lot to the grocery store when a large ugly car came barreling across my path. It had a Green Bay Packers license plate, and hunched over the wheel was a gray-haired woman in a Packer jacket with a determined look on her face. It was as if she were racing to get to the end zone and anyone in her way could just get plowed under. I jumped back out of the way, thinking I'd at least be happier getting run over by her than a Viking fan.
Later the same day, a blue-haired lady in a Lexus careened out from a stop sign right in front of me, rudely spraying slush and forcing me to brake abruptly to avoid her rear. Just where are these elderly women going in such a rush? A speed dating event at the senior center?
I understand that having one's independence as we age is important; a driver's license equals freedom, mobility, and the good feeling that we don't have to rely on others to get where we want to go. But wisdom is supposed to come with age, not a lead foot and disregard for the rules and etiquette of the road. I have noticed that old men tend to drive 20 mph like they have all day to get to their destination; it's the elderly women who are channeling Dale Earnhardt.
On the way into town today, I followed a PT Cruiser with paneling on the sides and a license plate that read GO GRNNY. I rest my case! And I do relaize that, God willing, I will one day be one of these old ladies behind the wheel. But I can assure you, I will not have blue hair or drive like a maniac. I'll probably let my much younger boyfriend do the driving.