The Elderly Hate Teenage Drivers

Have senior citizens declared war on innocent teenage drivers?

Growing up I walked to elementary school every day, rain or shine. Washington, my alma mater, is about a fifteen to twenty minute walk from my house, depending on the mood of my siblings.

I typically capped these walks off by scarfing down a handful of Bermuda Buttercups, which I knew as “sour grass”. I now realize that my favorite patch of sour grass also happens to be a regular urination spot for dogs and the occasional homeless person.

While walking is still my preferred means of transportation, I now also have my drivers’s license.

As an extrovert, I think of driving as a chance to interact with people from every walk of life. I like to give a friendly wave or smile to every passing car, and I get a variety of reactions. I sometimes will have a fellow driver wave back or awkwardly smile out of pity, but most of the time my presence is completely ignored. But I keep on trying.

Strangely, I have noticed that elderly drivers typically interpret my greetings as an act of aggression. The smile is wiped from my face when I get a sour face or the occasional middle finger in response.

I think the main reason for this either comes down to eyesight decline (do they think I am gesturing to them?), or the fact that most adults assume all teenage drivers are complete assholes. Not me. I’m not going to act like I am the best driver, but I like to think that I am a relatively safe one. My parents have enabled every available safety feature in my car. I am alerted with a deafening ring whenever my Subaru detects a potential threat, whether that be an oncoming car or a dangerously high seat warmer temperatures.

My late grandfather, an avid driver (despite his severe cataracts) until his early 90s, once pulled over a driver that he thought was tailgating him. He let the car pass him, then got behind him, and flashed his lights until the poor sap pulled to the side of the road, likely thinking the old man needed help. Instead he was warned that he’d tailgated the wrong guy and that he was under citizen’s arrest. Luckily for the man, and likely for my grandfather, my grandfather had left his cell phone at home and was reluctantly forced to let the man go. If it had been a teenager, there is a good chance my grandfather would have spanked him, put him in the back of his car, and drove him home to his parents. Luckily no harm came from this encounter, but the legend of that arrest lives on today.

I live in fear of being the arrestee of a similarly deranged old man. So I’ll keep smiling, hoping for the best, and remember to give any silver haired foxes on the road the right of way, no matter who gets to the stop sign first. And I’ll bide my time until the day comes when I can make my own citizen’s arrest.