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“An open letter to the guy that drives down my street at 50 mph”

Dear speed racing neighbor,

When I was a kid I used to spend almost all day outside. When I wasn’t getting into trouble with the neighborhood kids, I was in front of my house practicing skateboard tricks on the street right of my front door. Some days I would be shooting hoops into a basketball net set up at the end of my driveway and taking three-pointers from the center of the road.

When cars would come down the street I would hop out of the way and they would slowly ride by usually with a friendly nod or wave. You see, not only do most people delight in seeing a kid outside playing anymore, but at minimum they understand that you should drive with caution.

This brings me to you, my neighborhood Dale Earnhardt, you don’t see it this way. Every residential neighborhood is your Speedway. When you see kids outside, you don’t think “slow down”, you think that they are obstacles on a drifting track, little people who aren’t terrified by your hi-speed metal death machine, but as people that must be in awe of your disregard for the speed limit and all around baddassery.

Now I can’t be certain that you are speeding up when you see the neighborhood kids enjoying themselves on the street, but I can be sure that you view our quiet residential road as the straightaway at the drag strip. Douchebags like you are the reason that I can’t just sit on my porch and watch my daughter practice her scooter in the road, but have to actively be standing in the street, hovering over her like a hawk, to make sure that you aren’t going to turn the corner and flatten her as you hit the gas and look down to make sure that your Kid Rock CD is blasting at maximum output.

Let me assure you, that not only are we completely unimpressed, but if I thought you were smart enough to stop when I was yelling for you to slow down, I’d stand in front of your car and have a little heart to heart talk about my displeasure of your street racing foolery.

My problem is not so much that you drive like every time you step on the gas you are trying to prove to the world that you do not in fact have “micropenis”, it’s that people like you are just another reason that the kids don’t go out and play anymore. It’s safer for them to stay inside, eating potato chips and playing video games.

I’m a firm believer that my afternoons spent learning skateboard tricks on the street in front of my house were pivotal in keeping me out of much bigger trouble. Granted the people in my neighborhood never were squealing the tires down the road using their vehicle to take on a child playing in the street. I don’t mind standing outside and watching my child play at all, it’s just that I end up spending more time gauging what car is going to speed up as soon as they turn onto my road, or what the car actually thinks they ought to slow down instead of actually focusing on the important work, play.

With that said, I am sure that you won’t be reading this. As you fly into your driveway, your tires still smoking, ripping into that six pack and downing 7-Eleven hotdogs, I can only imagine that you are resting your sweaty head on your couch in front of the television, delighting in the thought that you must have really impressed your neighbors with your speedy driving skills.

If I could figure out which run down the crap hole of a house near me you were driving to, I’d be the first to burst your bubble. In the meantime I will wait until your Limp Bizkit cd skips, and you slow down enough for me to grab your attention, and let you know that I would appreciate you following the speed limit when kids are playing in front of my house. I might not have a lead foot on the gas pedal, but you certainly won’t appreciate my foot up your ass.

Sincerely,

Dad that just wants to play outside with his daughter.

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