I walked out of the grocery store yesterday behind two elderly women, probably in their seventies or eighties. Just outside the doors stood two stop signs for both directions of parking lot traffic, and a car had stopped right in front of the women, halfway into the stripes of the cross walk. I could hear their conversation as I walked around them toward my car.
"I would have hit that car with my cart if I were you, Betty. They don't wanna stop, then they deserve to be rammed."
"I wish I had. They never think they have to stop, do they?"
"Next time, why don't you just ram them?"
"It's totally deserved. I will."
. . . . .
A NOTE TO ALL WHO KNOW ME:
If I become like them in my old age, just take me out back and put me out of your misery, OK?