Grandma is carrying a knife?

My first car was a blue, 1984 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. It had bench seating and only one side mirror. My grandma "donated" it to me after her foot "slipped" from the brake to the gas, and she drove into the side wall of Little Caesars. Thank you, grandma, for not killing anyone at Little Caesars, and also for Old Blue. Old Blue was good to me.

I drive 11 miles to work. I'm relatively lucky, I know. This morning, I was nearly a part of two separate accidents. The first was caused by a kid swerving into the other lane while talking on his cell phone, bumping the van in front of me ever so gently. The other was caused by a blue hair doing what blue hairs do... their best to cause death and destruction on the roadways.

Normally, when I exit from I-696 onto Groesbeck, decelerating gradually from 70mph, I don't STOP AT THE TOP OF THE MF'N OFF-RAMP. The little old lady in the little old car, a few cars ahead of me, did just that. And she did so quite suddenly, I might add. You know how it goes, each successive car has to stop more suddenly. Yeah, so with my tires screeching and horn blaring, I swerved off to the left and narrowly avoided rear-ending the car in front of me. The lady in the car behind me, who was of course tail-gating me like it was her job, swerved the other way and narrowly missed rear-ending me.

When I finally got behind the little old lady at the red light up ahead, and could see her face in her rear-view mirror, I could see that she had the typical, confused, omg-what-just-happened, did-I-do-something-wrong?! look on her face.

I was very upset, so I got out of my car, walked up to her driver-side window, and politely informed her that she was no longer allowed to drive herself to Ram's Horn for breakfast. She was quite firey, though, and responded by chucking her Virgin Mary dashboard ornament at me. It hit me right between the eyes. I had no choice at that point. It was on like, you guessed it, Donkey Kong.

I reached through her window and punched her right in the jaw. Much to my dismay, she shook it off like a heavyweight prize fighter, and returned the favor by grabbing my jacket and pulling my face into her door jam. That really hurt. Our brawl spilled out onto the service drive, as we exchanged blows. A crowd quickly gathered and began cheering for both sides. At one point, the old bitch threw gravel into my eyes (a cheap move, if you ask me), but I got her back by kicking her bad hip. Just as I was about to finish her off with a construction pylon to the face, she pulled a knife from her babushka and just narrowly missed cutting my leg. The battle was epic.

It all ended suddenly, when the sound of sirens in the distance sent the crowd scampering back to their cars. Old Lady Mildred and I did the same, because neither one of us wanted to end up back in the slammer. Before getting back into our cars, though, we glanced back, and gave one another a subtle nod of respect.

I share this story with you, because I feel there are lessons to be learned. First of all, if you're old and your powers of perception have diminished, you need to donate your car to a grandchild. Don't wait until you run someone over, or cause an accident. Second, if you run into an a blue hair that is causing havoc on the roadways, think twice about how you approach them.... they may be armed and dangerous.