Open Letter to an Angry Old Man

Hey, old man! Yeah, you over there with the onion on your belt and die-cut squaredancers sticker on the back window of your Chrysler New Yorker.

What the fuck gives you the right to go spouting off at my wife after you poorly negotiated the right-of-way at a three-way stop in the Tall Mouse parking lot in Cerritos?

She was waved on by another driver and you had the nuts, shriveled as they may be, to not only pull out in front of her but then stop, block her in, then give her Hell about how tired you were of those “damn SUV drivers.”

Excuse me? Were you running late for the Matlock marathon or something? Who’s more likely to get off the hook if they mistakenly step on the gas instead of the brake, plowing through a farmer’s market? Who would get a slap on the wrist rather than go to court if they were caught shoplifting?

You would, of course. Sometimes you old farts don’t know how good you have it when it comes to laws. You can get away with murder while anybody else would be thrown in the hoosegow, so don’t play the SUV Card.

Firstly, she was driving an Escape. It’s only an SUV in the most academic sense in that it’s higher than a car and has larger tires. It’s definitely no Escalade.

Secondly, would you have pulled this high-and-mighty shit if I were behind the wheel? Probably not. In fact if you had, even despite your being closer to death than me, I would have gotten in your wrinkled old face and let you know what time it was.

Third, I was under the impression that people from your generation were taught to respect women not verbally abuse them, let alone one that is 1/3 your age and with kid in tow.

You magnificent misogynistic bastard, you. This incident has proven my theory wrong tenfold.

So you’re an old man. Fine, I get it. And I will gladly salute anybody who has been blessed long enough to roam this wonderful world for so long.

But you know what? In your case, it doesn’t matter to The Jesus! I really don’t give a fuck! Nobody gets in my wife’s face over something so trivial as this provided I’m around. But you saw the opportunity and took it–with my 4-year-old son in the back seat, no less. It’s bad enough he doesn’t like clowns but now he may add old people to his list. I guess I’ll just have to teach him that not all older people are assholes like you; just those that may have some personal issues to deal with and when they can’t, take them out on the innocent.

Sure, the chances of you ever reading this are slim to none. But I hope that one day you will pull your crazy shit with somebody your age that isn’t afraid to put you in your place and will give you your much-deserved comeuppance.

Like Ann’s late grandfather (a Marine) used to tell us, “You’re not too big to hit.”

And you know what? He often did and in this case, he would have cleaned your clock for you free of charge then tell you to get off his lawn.

Amen, Grandpa. Amen indeed. Be sure to kick this guy’s ass when his number comes up on (insert appropriate deity here)’s Rolodex.

This entry was composed almost entirely on my iPod Touch while riding the train home, which I then e-mailed to myself. Edits and slight revisions done at home. Cool, huh?

2 thoughts on “Open Letter to an Angry Old Man

  1. As I often say when these things happen to me…I look right at them and with a smile say “Have a good day,jack ass!”


  2. Ann told him that if he didn’t move, she’d call the cops on his ass. The other driver also told him he’d press charges if he could. That’s when he decided to pack up and leave. Bastard.


Comments are closed.