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January 29, 2005
Slow Boy
I'm writing this on board my flight to Philadelphia. I am begenning to get jumpy from that cup of coffee I had back in Fort Lauderdale. The book I'm starting has text in some bizarre font that I have to hold at arms length in order to read. Is this the beginning?
So, I put the book down and glance over to the magazine that my row-mate is reading. It's one of those in-flight catalogs filled with all sorts of things you never realized you needed. 16-foot telescoping dusters for those hard-to-reach windows in the two-story entry areas of your colonial mansion. Multicolor 8-unit wireless key locator for those who lose multiple keys--and aren't worried that they'll misplace the locator box.
My eye alights suddenly on the yellow plastic "Slow-boy," and recognize it immediately. This is a roll-out stand up whimsical "sign" that parents can use at the edge of their driveway to notify drivers that their kids are at play. The advertisement also mentions that it reminds kids to stay away from the street.
The reason why I recognized it immediately was because there is a family on a street in my neighborhood, on one of the more traveled blocks that has aone of these charming little critters. Mom wheels the "Slow-boy" out into the street, and seems to give her kids a sense of security that nobody will come barrelling into them in an SUV so long as this little fellow is out there doing its job.
I was driving my truck recently and saw the thing out there, and did not see the kids in the street, but looked closely at the side of the street where they live. Just Mom, a another Mom and the "slow-boy". Suddenly while my eyes are watching left, seven-year old comes riding out from a driveway on the right. I slam on my brakes, making a rather screechy sound. Mom number two, who I seem to recognize as a woman who hauls ass through the neighborhood when she drives, screams, "Can't you see? SLOW!" I'm mortified, immediately guilt washes over me for being so careless as to nearly run over an unsuporvised kid.
As I pull off, I realize that it was because I saw the sign was the reason I didn't barrel into him. It was one of those moments when I didn't have that snappy comeback until it was too late to use it.
This street is a high traffic area, and not all the drivers are going to be quiet as alert as I was that day. If I was to think the worst about people, I'd believe that this mother was pushing the fates and asking for someone to injure or kill her kid so she'd have a fabulous lawsuit in the making. But people aren't capable of things that horrible. I can't imagine it.
The day after the incedent, I drive be again, late in the evening, to see "Slow-boy" at least four feet out in the road, no children or Moms to be seen. I have to drive on the wrong side of the road to avoid him. I briefly contemplated putting a swift, violent end to its career. But to do that would be to blame the little green boy for Moms abuse, and I couldn't do that to the little plastic fellow.
Posted by Bastique at January 29, 2005 4:09 PM