We were sitting up high in the SUV driving down the 25 MPH street last week, and I noticed the girl in the car in the next lane who kept looking down into her lap. As we got up beside her, I could see she was texting, which was keeping her head burrowed low instead of on the stop & go traffic in front of her.
Our windows were open as it was a beautiful day for a drive and text, apparently.
So I leaned out the window and yelled, "STOP TEXTING!"
Kenny stared at me, mouth agape at my audacity.
The girl didn't look up, so I yelled again, "YOU! STOP TEXTING!"
Startled, she looked up at me, gave the old lady who should be minding her own business the stink eye, but tossed her phone in the passenger seat anyway.
In retrospect, I should have taken a video of her texting and a photo of her license plate and sent them both to the local police department so they could get in touch with her mother.
Because I'm a tattle-tale like that. Yep, I am.
Texters & drivers? More dangerous than a bunch of drunks, because 16 year olds can do it, at all hours of the day, not just the hotspot hour of 2:30 a.m., when we're all on high alert cruising down the roads.
The sad/interesting/head-scratching-est part? I know several grown men - you know who you are. Randy. Timmy. Dan. - who text and drive. All. The Time.
Knock your shit off. Because you've got the Neighborhood Responder on your ass. And she will shout at you.