Have you ever been wandering about, minding your business, to be rudely struck with your own flawed processes?
That’s what happened to me just last night.
I was on my way to dinner at Steve and Lori’s place, driving peacefully up Tangerine Rd.
Now, okay, I was probably poking along at the speed limit, rather than the obligatory 5 mph over that most Tucsonans go, but there was a nice, empty lane to my left, that was absolutely perfect for passing me in.
So. A car pulled up behind me, and stuck with me for a minute or so, and, seeing the handicapped hanger thing on the mirror, I just assumed this driver was like all of the gentle, handicapped drivers who tend to drive slower than the rest of us. However, after a minute or two more, the car started to tailgate me a bit. Then, before I knew it, the car was right on top of my bumper.
And my thought was, “Hey! You are supposed to be handicapped.”
Okay, so now, I get that that’s a silly thought. Being handicapped doesn’t limit anyone from flooring it or giving me the finger as they drive past, but I still somehow believe that everyone who has a handicapped sticker should drive slowly. As should old people.
Stereotype? Prejudice?” I don’t know, but it blows my mind that I was driving for a good eight or nine minutes with that car stuck to my tail… why would a handicapped person DO such a thing? I’d expect a perfectly healthy teenage girl on her cell phone to do that, or even a middle-aged man in an enormous new truck.