I was driving behind a little old woman in the traffic a few days ago. She was driving a sensible little economical car, which was a conservative colour and had her hands carefully positioned at 10 and 2. She was facing forward concentrating only on the road and waiting for the lights to change.
As we trundled along the road together, I wondered why this old biddy fascinated me so much. As I watched her more intensely, I realised why I was so absorbed by her.
I was fucking irritated.
I was irritated that she was traveling at te speed limit – no more, no less. Just right. She had the perfect hair-sprayed hairstyle and sensible, age-appropriate blouse. I pictured her wearing functional comfortable shoes and matching durable handbag. Everything in the handbag compartmentalised and categorised for easy access. It would have been likely that she was listening to traditional folk music and a decent decibel or even listening to the traffic report on the radio to ensure no delays en-route.
So sensible.
I imagined that she would never break the law by speeding or cutting someone off in the traffic. She was clearly completely in control and levelheaded. Everything about her screamed old-fashioned and dull.
Do these things make you wise or just plain prudent?
Now, I’m not knocking the wee old bat in the car, because she’s probably happy as a pig in shite with her sensible lifestyle and flawless hair. All I knew was, I just don’t want to be like that when I’m an old fart.
I still want to be revving a V8 convertible and letting my hair blow in the wind. I want to be wearing bright coloured clothes and making a statement with my fashion. I aspire to be the daft old Bitch down the street that everyone knows and rolls their eyes at when she plays AC/DC at full volume on her car stereo. I still want to be cutting off the taxi Fuckers in the traffic, shouting FUCK YOU at them and giving them the middle finger.
I hope to be that grumpy old Fucker that farts at random and blames the dog. I aspire to be the cantankerous Granny who tells Telemarketers to Go Fuck Themselves and lives until she’s 96 just to piss off the grand kids. Besides, by then I’ll be able to get the hard drugs on chronic medication and I can blame my belligerent behaviour on the meds. A loudmouthed, stroppy, eccentric, crazy Bitch who just won’t die or take no for an answer.
Some say we will all become the wee old prissy granny behind the wheel. Och, some call it wise. Some call it conservative.
Fuck that shite.
I don’t want age to change me.
I aim to be the wee Scots Bad Ass Granny who drinks vodka straight from the fucking bottle and wears crotchless knickers.
![[A Daft Scots Lass]](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYP-LXznLAxNQmYRA4B21Z68ZHopoRtsq_GGpl3ODXniztaNsk4gld4FgwDU-Vh9qZQaqciSnhaa11JR7vzHKJZFuX9g7CwCsKJio7QIDrp7IkSfOObgY-2mdtA-Op_SHn1lwPWhucIzs/s910/banner22.jpg)
