08 July 2007

I Brake for Living Things in the Road


Last week I saw a bear. That story will have to wait. I'm going to vent about the assholes who drive like maniacs on my street. In the three years that we've lived here, Chris has seen two dead cats, I've seen countless dead squirrels, we've both seen dead whistle pigs, Bea was hit by a car (she walked away with a few bumps and bruises), another child was hit by a car, Meg saw a car kill a chihuahua, and just today, someone hit our cat James with a car, and never bothered to stop.

James is okay. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, just a lacerated tongue and an enormous vet bill.

People use our street as a short cut to larger roads, and they act like they're on the fucking Autobahn, or they're being chased by a car eating monster, or something ridiculous like that. There's no excuse. The speed limit on our street is 20 mph. If you want to drive faster, don't drive down the side streets of small towns like ours! It's that easy. I'm inclined to sit on my porch and start throwing eggs or kombucha SCOBY's (because they have a mysterious flesh feel to them and I think that would get some one's attention) at the speed demons who pass, but that would probably get me in trouble. I've tried yelling at people to stop, and it only works for maybe 25% or the cars. I've thought about making pleasant and colorful signs that say things like "Welcome to our neighborhood", and "please drive slowly [you stupid asshole]", and "we love our children and pets and don't want their brains splattered on your windshield", and "If you hit one of our children or pets we will take your ass to court and sue you". I'm not confident those signs work. I might just start taking down license plate numbers and calling them in to the police. Actually, nagging the police is a common practice on our street. Not all of our neighbors are neighborly.

At any rate, if you live in Greenfield, and you drive down the side streets, beware. If I catch you speeding on my street it will not be pleasant.

I'm afraid that one of these days I might have to go to Bea and tell her that someone ran over her beloved cat. It was sad enough to tell her that we had to take James to the vet and we didn't know how badly she was hurt. She immediately burst into tears. It was heartbreaking.* So to the person who hit our cat and never stopped, fuck you, and consider yourself hexed.

*You may ask why do we let our cats outside. If we don't, they piss all over the house. They were indoor cats for two years.

1 comment:

joshua said...

Indoor cats go insane. Just like indoor people.

I'm glad James is OK.