Today I was following an annoyingly slow driver and I thought, "Why is this jerk driving like a grandma?" And I thought about how, when I was little, my grandma drove like a bat out of hell. I mean, 60 mph and hollering. Once, I was helping her move, and we got to the new house with a load, and she goes, "Where's my toaster?" I saw it on the way back to get another load. Her crazy ass had went around a curve too fast, and the toaster was roadkill. But that was before I could even drive myself.
Now? She drives like, well, a grandma. I hate moments like that, because it forces me to realize that she really is getting older. I wish I could freeze her in time, flying around the corners, tossing toasters off the back of the truck.