Old Moron, Young Moron

"Impulse engines one-quarter reverse thrust, Mr. Sulu. Back 'er out nice and easy."

"Aye, captain, one-quarter reverse thrust."

I'm careful when I back out of a parking place. Usually visibility is limited so I back out slowly to give any drivers behind me a chance to stop. Or whatever.

Today it was a dose of "or whatever" as a kid, whom I'll refer to shortly as the Young Moron, in a red Mustang gave me the horn treatment.

HONNNNNNNNKKKKKK! "Moron," I heard him shout.

Yeah, right, moron to you, too, kid, I thought as I pulled back into my parking place to let him by.

Young Moron gunned his engine and sped past me, squealing his tires.

"Resume course, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, captain, course laid in."

So, backing out Part Deux went without a hitch and I headed off across the parking lot to the exit. At the far end of the parking lot there seemed to be some sort of commotion; several cars stopped with hazard lights flashing and other people forming a small crowd. I cruised past the first exit and decided to engage in a Texas passtime, rubbernecking, and have a look. There was another exit near the crowd and I could check out the action.

Maybe it was Britney and Paris. Who knows?

Young Moron was standing next to the remains of his red Mustang. It appeared that the speeding Young Moron had run into several shopping carts that are often found littering the parking lot. One or more carts had cracked his windshield and both headlights were gone. Worse yet, though, Young Moron had veered into a planter. The planter won that encounter as the Mustang's front wheel was lying sideways to the car.

What a mess.

I did not gloat, though. Parking lots are hazardous places and it's not a good idea to speed through them. Young Moron was lucky that nobody was hurt. Perhaps he'll learn from this experience and have an opportunity to grow into an Old Moron.

"We are clear of Spaceport, captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu. Set a course for home. Warp factor 5."

"Aye, captain, warp factor 5."