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Something Is Wrong With The Boys



I was at one of the Valero gas stations in Littleton, Colorado Thursday where I gassed my 2015 Dodge Dart.  |After paying inside for fuel (cash), I noticed a young man with a Toyota Camry-which  is a formidable vehicle in its own right.

“How fast can that thing go?” I asked him.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“The fuck you mean you don’t know?  Don’t you ever floor that car?”

“I’ll get a ticket.”

“Yeah?  And?  How old are you, kid?”


“Oh, my fucking God!  You’re supposed to get speeding tickets at nineteen!  I got ’em all the time in L.A. when I was your age (1989)!  Why do you think the car insurance is so high for those under 25?!”

Is this what our young men have become-afraid to go .5 past light speed?

Shouldn’t we let boys be boys and let them hit the pavement a few times before they finally realize that getting a speeding ticket is too expensive?  While it might be true that he may already know that, what caught my attention most was his tone of voice, because he sounded like a little lamb that was on its way to a slaughterhouse.

“Well, next time, I do it-just for you,” he promised.

“Doubt it,”  I countered.

I drove a 1977 Pontiac Grand Prix when I was 19.  Even the young guys who souped up their Hondas fifteen years ago weren’t afraid to go past the century mark, but I don’t know about this generation.  It seems as though their wings have been clipped-and that’s sad.

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