I have been asking the Lord to make haste the day the city puts speed bumps on our road. A certain group of reckless high school kids scream down it on a daily basis like it’s their personal drag strip.
No lie, some of these turds, er, teens are going roughly 60 down a residential road filled with families with a 30 mph speed limit.
And this after I have told my students and football players who live down the road to tell their friends I will literally throw a brick through their windshield if I catch them speeding by when my son is playing outside. We have a small front yard as it is, so the driving margin of error for these inexperienced ultra ADD text messaging teens is incredibly small.
On one occasion I heard a speedster approaching with the engine fully revved. I was outside playing with my two year old son about twenty five feet from the road. It was a white Toyota Celica with a fart muffler approaching at an obnoxious rate. I took off on a full sprint to act like I was going to jump out in front of the car (stupid I know) and reached my mailbox at about the same time it whizzed by.
“Slow down!” I barked into the driver side window like I was William Wallace about to announce my freedom. I stared at the back of the car in disbelief as the driver not only failed to even tap his brakes, but rather sped up in spite (yeah I got your license # kid). If I had a pair of police spikes that evening I’m almost certain I would have caught our little Earnhardt Jr. on his way back (I said “almost” holy rollers).
So we are in the process of gathering the necessary paperwork from the city to see if we are eligible for a speed bump. The stages toward obtaining this “sleeping policeman” include neighbor signatures, traffic count sensors and speed strips, but it will be worth it.
I hope they put one right out in front of my house. The first day of the momentous event I’ll be camping out in the front yard with my handheld camera in one hand and can of confetti in the other. I’ll probably take a personal leave from work for that joyous day. At the first site of that little tricked out clown car my camera will be primed for a Funniest Home Video submission. When he hits the cement barricade I’m expecting the bottom to fall out and sparks to fly. I’ll pop the confetti and scream “Ya hear me now, bro?”
At least that’s how I have it planned out in my head.
The point is world, don’t mess with the safety of this daddy lion’s cubs. I might have to go straight Braveheart on you and your two-cylinder chick car.