Sam and I are thinking about asking one of our state legislators to propose some traffic laws for people who drive those electric carts in grocery stores and other places. Good thing our legislators love to pass laws. Otherwise, somebody could get hurt!
I can’t tell you how many times Sam and I have driven to our local Fred Meyer store for a loaf of bread or a half gallon of ice cream only to find so many old geezers clogging up the aisles with their power chairs or mobility scooters I can hardly get close enough to the produce to squeeze the peaches.
It would be relatively simple to install a few rules to regulate those old grey haired-piloted Magoo mobilers. Just like regular vehicular traffic, they would be required to drive on the right and pass on the left, and only pass when they had clear road - aisle - ahead. They would not be allowed to stop in the middle of an aisle and think about what they wanted until they fell asleep at the wheel or until they called their son or daughter on a cell phone or while they tried to add up their purchases on calculators.
Right of way is a major problem. No left turn should be made from one aisle to another without yielding to oncoming traffic. Also, there must be no bumping into a person’s heels at the check stand. And driving the wrong way in an aisle should be strictly verboten.
It shouldn’t be necessary to regulate speed. Top speed on one of the fanciest scooters is only about 7 mph and most of them don’t go that fast. Of course no real car was allowed to travel more than 3 mph on most public roads back in the “olden days”. On the other hand, I can see some old grandpa reminiscing about the good old days when he owned a ’49 Chevy or something and goosing his power chair up enough to squeeze a little more zip and sizzle out of the old gal.
One of the worst infractions by the limited mobility set is scooting across the parking lot outside to get back to their senior housing or wherever they came from before their wardens discover they’re gone. Geez Louise it’s hard to see those carts when you’re trying to back out of a parking stall.
In church Sunday, several scooters took off in a cloud of dust and with a hearty Hi Yo Silver as soon as the priest announced the end of the mass. I thought we were going to have a mobile altar-cation: scooters crashing into each other, candles falling, banners burning. I was afraid we might have to form a bucket brigade from the baptismal font at the back of the church to the altar to douse a conflagration.
It’s kind of interesting to read about power chairs and mobility scooters. Several companies offer them and they all have websites.
I think if I had a scooter I’d make sure it had a nice ah-ooga horn, a whip-antenna with flag or foxtail, some flame decals, and a nice candy-apple red paint job. Oh, and a spotlight would be nice too so I could make the old gals lurking in the aisles freeze up like spotlighted deer. All innocent fun of course! My cart also would have to have a seat where Sam could sit up front and bark warnings to people that I was coming. “Get outta’ Jim’s way, he’s after some sweet corn and a bottle of tequila. We’re gonna’ roast some ears and toast our years. Yeehaw!
Two bags of poop on getting pulled over by the store patrol. Dang!
I can’t tell you how many times Sam and I have driven to our local Fred Meyer store for a loaf of bread or a half gallon of ice cream only to find so many old geezers clogging up the aisles with their power chairs or mobility scooters I can hardly get close enough to the produce to squeeze the peaches.
It would be relatively simple to install a few rules to regulate those old grey haired-piloted Magoo mobilers. Just like regular vehicular traffic, they would be required to drive on the right and pass on the left, and only pass when they had clear road - aisle - ahead. They would not be allowed to stop in the middle of an aisle and think about what they wanted until they fell asleep at the wheel or until they called their son or daughter on a cell phone or while they tried to add up their purchases on calculators.
Right of way is a major problem. No left turn should be made from one aisle to another without yielding to oncoming traffic. Also, there must be no bumping into a person’s heels at the check stand. And driving the wrong way in an aisle should be strictly verboten.
It shouldn’t be necessary to regulate speed. Top speed on one of the fanciest scooters is only about 7 mph and most of them don’t go that fast. Of course no real car was allowed to travel more than 3 mph on most public roads back in the “olden days”. On the other hand, I can see some old grandpa reminiscing about the good old days when he owned a ’49 Chevy or something and goosing his power chair up enough to squeeze a little more zip and sizzle out of the old gal.
One of the worst infractions by the limited mobility set is scooting across the parking lot outside to get back to their senior housing or wherever they came from before their wardens discover they’re gone. Geez Louise it’s hard to see those carts when you’re trying to back out of a parking stall.
In church Sunday, several scooters took off in a cloud of dust and with a hearty Hi Yo Silver as soon as the priest announced the end of the mass. I thought we were going to have a mobile altar-cation: scooters crashing into each other, candles falling, banners burning. I was afraid we might have to form a bucket brigade from the baptismal font at the back of the church to the altar to douse a conflagration.
It’s kind of interesting to read about power chairs and mobility scooters. Several companies offer them and they all have websites.
I think if I had a scooter I’d make sure it had a nice ah-ooga horn, a whip-antenna with flag or foxtail, some flame decals, and a nice candy-apple red paint job. Oh, and a spotlight would be nice too so I could make the old gals lurking in the aisles freeze up like spotlighted deer. All innocent fun of course! My cart also would have to have a seat where Sam could sit up front and bark warnings to people that I was coming. “Get outta’ Jim’s way, he’s after some sweet corn and a bottle of tequila. We’re gonna’ roast some ears and toast our years. Yeehaw!
Two bags of poop on getting pulled over by the store patrol. Dang!
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