About January 26 (2016) as I was leaving the parking lot where I live, a “little old lady” driving in to the lot forced me into a snowbank. I was furious.

I wanted to get out on the spot and create a scene, but I just fumed instead. I fumed for days.

At first, I couldn’t see any damage – scratches on the doors – but a couple of days ago, I saw the real damage – a smashed in rocker panel.

Now I was really upset.


This afternoon (January 30), my son David and I were on our way to a favorite buffet, when it dawned on me – “I” am a “little old man.”

I am now 70, and registered with the state as a diabetic. That means every year on my birth date, I have to submit a permission slip from my doctor saying it is okay for me to drive.

But is it? Safe?

What if I was the one who forced another driver into a snowbank?

What if I sped through a stop sign while David was in the car – risking his life?

What if I had to swerve to avoid a couple of pedestrians in the crosswalk?

What if my driver’s license was taken away because I got caught on one of those ubiquitous traffic cameras?

What if it cost me so much money to get my license back I couldn’t afford it on my Social Security check? How would I get to the store whenever I wanted without a car? How would I pick up my prescriptions whenever they were renewed? How would I get to the gym every day to work out?

What if “I” am a “little old man?”

What if?



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