I'M GETTING OLD....

I think a sure sign that I’m getting old, is that I think my 75 year old mother drives too fast.

Now, those of you that know me understand that I can get a little cranky at those drivers that insist on travelling at 80 km/ph in a 100 km/ph zone… or if cars cut me off and I have to brake… or if they cut in on me in the traffic without waving a thanks… or if they don’t let me merge in… these things I have no patience for.

However, I’m paranoid about speeding.

No; correction: I’m paranoid about losing my licence.  A by-product of that is my paranoia about speeding.

You see, when I moved up to Tooborac, I got pinged by the police about 4 times in as many months, and my licence points went from 12, down to 3.  I near had a heart attack, and was completely terrified that I would lose my licence. It is fair to say that the governments introduction of the licencing points system worked on me.

If I lost my licence, I think I would just die.  Seriously.  I wouldn’t be able to get to work; I wouldn’t be able to get Jade to the bus stop; I wouldn’t even be able to run into town to grab something from the general store.  I’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere.  I would just die!

I believe there are three types of speeders out there.  The first one speeds everywhere and never gets caught.  The second one speeds everywhere, gets caught, loses points and just doesn’t seem to learn.  And the third one is the person that doesn’t speed, but has a momentary lapse in concentration, because they’re possibly distracted by sparkly things, and gets pinged for doing a few km/ph over the limit.

I would be the latter of the three.  Not a habitual speeder; just a dumb arse.

So yesterday, Iris and I head down to Essendon to pick up her funky new car (please see picture below!)  It’s a pretty exciting time for her, because she’s never had a new car before.  The last one she bought 20 years ago, and it was a demo model.  So, it’s kinda knew, but not really, if you know what I mean. 

This one is a brand spanker.

So, we leave home, and heading through Tooborac (the town where one of Victoria’s high ranking police officials was pinged for speeding!), and she’s doing like 80 km/ph in a 70 km/ph zone!  I’m like ‘slow down Mum.  The coppers are everywhere up here.’

She’s not 100% familiar with everything yet, so she’s more concentrating on where she’s going than the speed she’s doing.  With me in the passenger seat, she doesn’t need to worry about the speed; I’ll tell her *hangs head in shame*

So, she’s hooning down the Northern highway… ‘Mum, slow down…’ she’s hooning through Kilmore… ‘Mum, slow down…’ she’s hooning through Wallan… ‘For fucks sake Mum; slow down!’

We passed no less than four police cars between Tooborac and Wallan.  Great.

I have visions of a 75 year old woman driving a hotted up 1991 Commodore S Pack giving a stern lecture about her driving record to the police offer that pulls her over.  The last speeding fine she got was when I was 16; 24 years ago.  Pretty good for a hoon.

Could you imagine if her vehicle was impounded because she’s a hoon?  I could see the headlines now: A 75 year old pensioner of North Central Victoria is the oldest hoon in the state to have her vehicle impounded and crushed under the new hoon laws…

*rolls eyes*

I explained to Mum my paranoia about speeding, and as I said it, I realised that it’s not just my paranoia about speeding, it’s the thought that she would lose a bit of confidence driving if she was booked for speeding.  That if the points added up, she could lose her licence.  If she lost her licence, she would be devastated.  Would it be hard for her to get it back? Mmm…. My paranoia running away with me again…  is it about me, or my need to protect her?

*sigh*

So anyway, we literally hoon down to Essendon; me ever thankful to touch terra firma when we get to the Hyundai dealership.

Then Iris is handed the keys to something that resembles Kermit the Frog, and we’re off!  So, as I climb into the passenger seat, I’m wondering how she will handle the difference in the vehicles.  She’s going from a big, beasty V6, to something that, although it doesn’t have the massive power of the commodore, goes like the clappers.  And looks like a frog.

 

However, driving home is the complete opposite to driving down to Essendon.  She’s like doing 90 km/ph in a 100 km/ph zone, and I’m thinking ‘thank fuck it’s not peak hour.’

However, by the time we got to Wallan (30 minutes) she’s comfortable, and back to normal, and I’m resigning myself to the fact that Iris is a hoon.

Don’t doubt for a second that Mum is not a good driver; she is.  She’s the third type of driver; the one that gets distracted by sparkly things and forgets her speed.  Apart from that, she’s an excellent driver.

She’s just a 75 year old lead foot.

Good driver.  Lead Foot.

So, but the time we pull up to the supermarket, my paranoia of speeding, combined with the constant ‘if we’re going too fast, you’re too old’ reel running through my head is leaving me nothing short of nauseas.

I have visions of my cousin and I in her Club Sport hooning around the massive round-a-bout in Heyfield when we were younger and stupid-er, and I wonder where those days have gone.  Those days where we were free and we had stupid, harmless fun in our cars.

Just reflecting on that makes me feel old. 

What the hell has happened?  I tell you, my father, who was one of the biggest rev heads I’ve ever known, would be hanging his head in shame and wondering where he failed as a father.  Poor Nev.

Is it because I now cart around precious cargo (Jade)?  Or is it because I just can’t justify the fines?  Is it because I don’t want to lose my licence, or is it because I can’t bank on other drivers out there, and don’t want to lose my life?  Who knows?

Maybe I should take up some form of vehicle racing to release my inner hoon?  Dodgem cars would be good…

Either way, if you see me on the road, plodding along at the speed limit, I won’t be offended if you overtake me.  Just keep in mind, as I wave at you as you leave me in a cloud of dust, that my paranoia is driving the car, not me.

Well, the paranoia or the old woman.  One or the other.

Keep safe out there.

Peace out.