There once was an um… “older woman” who fell victim to a “younger” mysterious phantom. I relate the story here as a warning and a lesson. To wit:
“I stopped for the red light,” the senior recounted. “Adele sang sweetly of “When We Were Young.” The sky was blue. The day had promise. Joy filled my heart, until…
…BAM! Something hit me. I hadn’t a clue what, or from where. Was it a runaway boulder? Had a pop-up war broken out? Did a myopic superhero fly into my back window? Or did the ubiquitous smart phone zombie, purveyor of accidents on land, sea and sky, strike again? I climbed out of my car to find out.
A perky girlie in a blue tennis outfit floated toward me.
“Oh, I am soooooooo sorry,” she cooed. I stared at her in disbelief. “I’m soooo sorry. I’m soooo sorry. I’m sooooo sorry.” Is she a robot? I thought. Is her speech synthesizer stuck?
Then, BAM! It registered. This lovely lady dressed in blue had just rear-ended me, the “older driver” who regularly gets pummeled with ads for “Safe Driving Courses for Mature Adults.” Gag me.
I stepped closer. Anger rose in me like a pot of boiling water. My face turned red. My eyes bugged out. I bared my teeth, including my new $5,000 bridge. And, in a controlled maniacal voice, I hissed: “Give me your license.”
“Oh,” she said, saucer eyes closing to slits. A changeling had obviously entered her body chasing away all manner of timidity. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with your car, and mine looks fine …. And well, I’m sooooo sorry.” she said, smiling like a cryptocurrency dealer about to score big.
“SORRY, NOT SORRY,” I roared, mimicking a pop song my niece had blasted on a recent visit. “GIVE ME YOUR LICENSE,” I insisted. Then, I turned; walked back to my car; got my phone and purse.
Big mistake.
“Did you see where she went?” I asked the new driver now in the empty space So Sorry Sally had vacated.
“Huh? What lady? I didn’t see any lady,” the new occupant said.
Yup. So Sorry Sally had put pedal to the metal and vanished like the sun chasing a morning fog.
OK, yeah, the older woman was moi. However, the story is not all doom and gloom. Upon advice from my husband, police and the ambulance driver, I went to the ER for a checkup. The CAT scan revealed all was well. My brain was normal, although my husband asked for a second opinion.
Even better, I only spent three days pressing one for this, pressing two for that, until upon pressing 10 and getting a live insurance rep, my phone cut out. What’s more, as far as my car bumper is concerned, there’s an ever-so-slight indentation of So Sorry Sally’s license plate on the bumper. But I can live with that.
Still, I’m a person who loves to learn and loves to help others learn, too. So, from my many years of driving without incident, I’d like to offer a few hints to the So Sorry Sallys of the world:
Those two round things just above your nose, the things you put mascara and liner on, are quite useful for more than flirting. They can, like, help you, like, see things when you drive. They’re especially useful if you focus them on the road.
Those big, tank-like things that transport people from here to there can, actually, hurt you, or someone you don’t even know, when you’re in them and driving distracted.
Multi-tasking may save you time. But doing one thing at a time may save you trips to the ER where your partner may question your gray matter.
Like Aretha Franklin urges, (if you don’t know who she is, google it), drivers should
“r. e. s. p. e. c. t.” one another (if you don’t know what that means, google it.)
It’s de rigueur to exchange that square thing you should carry with you, the plastic thingy that looks like your credit card but isn’t, the one with your photo, license number, address and age, with another driver when you’re oh-so-sorry you rear-ended them.
As far as I’m aware, those red and green lights strung high on wires in the air on roads and those octagon signs that say STOP and MEN AT WORK IN THE TREES, are meant to draw your attention to lower your foot to the brake. Please text me (when you’re at home and not in your car, if you know the rules have changed).
Finally, the warning for older drivers: Be careful who you turn your back on.
The lesson for So Sorry Sallys: Be nice; nix the device. Don’t be a smart phone zombie.
— Allia Zobel Nolan
Allia Zobel Nolan has written a lot of books with a lot of different publishers — over 170 at last count. Some have sold more than 100,000 copies and won numerous awards. She is proudest of being named a 2025 William Faulkner Literary Contest winner for her short story “What’s for Dinner?” Her latest book titles are Harriet Hurry-Up and the Oh-So-Slow Day; Why Can’t My Brother Be More Like My Cat? with art by bestselling illustrator Lee Wildish; and Finding Harmony: The Kitten Who Taught Friends Kindness.