Monthly Archives: March 2015

Old People Driving Scooters


Every week in my mailbox I am bombarded with advertisements for funeral pre-planning, hearing aids and today I received an invitation to test drive a mobility scooter. Along with the walker, I think the mobility scooter has become the spirit animal for the over 50 set. This afternoon at Walmart there were so many scooters cramming the entrance that the greeter looked like he was waving them into a turn.

At least once a month I read a news item about an elderly person mowing down some innocent by-stander on their scooter. Not long ago a friend of mine in Kansas City witnessed a guy (who was no spring chicken) coming down a hill on his ‘Hover Round’ when he lost control and drove through the window of Hollywood Tan.

I think someone needs to introduce some legislation to make insurance compulsory for these vehicles as so many of their elderly pilots are asleep at the wheel (literally and figuratively) and have impaired abilities when it comes to navigation. As of now there is no such requirement that would protect them from huge law suits and pay for our medical bills.

Before long we’ll all be forced to hide in our homes for fear that some twittering old person will careen up onto our front lawns and knock us ass over ankles into our rose bushes. No one is safe, especially dogs and small children. “Come closer, child. Nana’s Rascal™ mobility scooter needs more blood of innocents.”


The Mystery of the Wandering Pants


I was in the laundry room when I heard the doorbell ring, so I went to answer it and on my way through the dining room, fortunately for me, I realized that I wasn’t wearing any pants. Why wasn’t I wearing pants? I put pants on when I got dressed this morning so where did they go? Then I remembered that I had taken them off to try on a pair of other pants that I had altered on the sewing machine. Once I decided that they looked pretty good. I took off the altered pants and threw them in the washer with a load of clothes. Obviously that’s where my train of thought stopped and I went on about my business until the doorbell rang an hour or so later. By the time I found my wandering pants and put them back on, the person at the door had gone. So if that was you, my apologies.