Speed Demons Straight from Hell

When I was young and silly, I once raced my car through a residential neighborhood with the sole intent of flinging my ex-boyfriend's class ring at him in a way that would mar any attractiveness to his new girlfriend.

Since he had the presence of mind to stay behind locked doors once I screeched into his driveway, my only satisfaction was throwing the ring into the swimming pool, jumping back into my car and tearing down his street again.

That's when I saw her.

A woman was stalking through her front yard, cordless phone in hand, no doubt on the line with the police department. When she heard me coming again, she leaped onto the curb and wagged a finger at me in the same way my mother always did when she wanted me to feel ashamed.

Like Pavlov's dog, I could not resist the signal and immediately slowed down, limping out of the neighborhood both rejected and dejected.

Now I am the woman skittering about her front yard, hopping mad at the drivers who flagrantly ignore the 25 mph speed limit on the very street where my son walks to school.

But when I wag my finger -- various digits, depending on the day, often accompanied by ear-splitting shrieks of "Slow Down!" -- I get no shamed response. Some people actually speed up.

All manner of people are speeding down my street, and it's not just ignorant high school and college students. All sorts of rumbling work trucks and vans, piloted by bleary-eyed chain smokers; muffler-needing coupes with seats so far reclined it's a wonder drivers can see over the wheel; and a certain pizza chain from whom I will NEVER buy anything again because after repeated calls to managers, their delivery drivers won't respect the speed limit. Do you know who the worst offenders are?

Soccer moms.

I mean it. Their shiny SUVs are plastered with FHS soccer stickers (and hockey and tennis and volleyball and shuffleboard) and they apparently are very late for practice. Or a hair appointment. Or they just don't give a damn.

Cuz I'm spiritual, I don't throw nails into the street as they come speeding my way. What do you suggest I could do to encourage drivers to slow down? The finger has lost its power.

Comments

[Joy]

Unfortunately the only thing that works in such a situation is having a cop regularly patrol the street. People generally hate having to stop in order to be given a ticket.

Otherwise, it's really just a case of disagreeing over who exists. Speeding drivers, line cutters and anyone else showing blatent disregard for you and yours live in a world where only they are present. Kids walking to school? They're not really there. Someone clearly waiting for that cart to be moved so they can get down that grocery isle? Not there. Patrons trying to enjoy a nice dinner but failing because of the screaming baby with the oblivious parents? What other patrons?

Of course, forcing these idiots to see that you do actually exist is like poking a rabid animal with a stick. How dare we interrupt their sanctimonious lives by imposing ours on them, even if it's a matter of courtesy or even safety?

It's too bad that the latter is what's ultimately going to cause most of these people to realize the word does not revolve around them. They're going to pull out of a parking space, not bother to look both ways beforehand as usual, and one of us is going to T-bone their sorry asses.

[Elizabeth]

Amen! We have the same issue on our street (Hurd Avenue). Lots of small children (one hearing impaired) playing and speeding idiots racing down the road. We have done two things on our street. 1) We throw tennis balls at the cars and 2) the dads in the hood have actually followed the idiot drivers and written down license plate numbers, then called the police. We actually noticed a cruiser more frequently going down our street after that. Good Luck to you...keep up the fight!

[Otto]

Well, you've open the door on a very important moral debate on the genesis of laws. Laws are (and underline the "are") reflective of the morals of the democratic society, but usually 15 years behind the time.
"What are morals?" you may ask. The answer is, dear chum, "Passive, social contracts." Morals cannot be demanded; they grow out of what a society believes is acceptable (and therefore are inherently specific).
As I deftly sidestep the metaphysical question concerning the bounds of that society determining morals, I pose the question: Is speeding down the street in front of Rebecca's house really (bold, itallicized) wrong?
Perhaps that law limiting the speed to 25 is out of touch with the current morals of society? We must remember that the essence of our democracy is the ability to change (ammend) our laws to better reflect the values of society (it is important enough to put in the constitution). Maybe, it's time we raise the speed limit on Rebecca's street. Certainly, she'd be able to rest her voice when that occurs, the pizza company would be saved some angry phone calls, and the police could concentrate on lowering the city's murder rate.

[Rebecca]

Well, considering speed limit laws are also based on equations such as how many driveways or other side streets open onto a particular thoroughfare, you should be driving about 4 mph down my street.

These social contracts don't exist in a void. I keep up my end of the deal. I don't flagrantly back out of my driveway right in front of their cars, purposely aiming for smashing their radiators into their laps. I don't toss my garden rake through their windshields like an African hunting spear.

Laws do not simply reflect who we are. Laws adjust the lighting, Windex the glass and tilt the mirror to give us an image of what we can be at our socially constructive best. Frankly, given our latest local murder, I'm not going to be in favor of adjusting our laws to reflect the suspect's current morality. Driving fast seems to be what society wants to do, therefore raise the speed limit on Rebecca's street = Smashing child molesters' dangly bits in a waffle iron seems to be what Rebecca wants to do, therefore change the assault laws. Perhaps not.

(Yes, yes, "Rebecca" does not constitute society. But I doubt I'm alone in that sentiment.)

There is the whole difference of proscriptive and prescriptive law, too. That's for tomorrow, class.

[Megan]

Well, when this was a problem for me with motorcycles revving their way down my quaint tree-lined street in Brooklyn, NY, I fantasized about two options. 1) Set a booby trap for them involving a thick rope tied across the street; 2) throw rotten eggs at them. I never did either one, because #1 might result in an inadvertent decapitation and manslaughter charge; and my bad aim would have inhibited the success of #2. However, I did let the eggs rot in my fridge, just in case. When I moved out, they were a year old. I left them there.

[Kendra Grant]

I suggest you video tape them and submit the tape to WTOL, they should be more than happy to run a segment on it. Bulleted. lol
Also, water balloons. Shiny SUV's require lots of car washes. And I said waterballoons instead of paintballs because I'm spuuritial too.