The parking lot of the Coop, where I stopped by to grab a few supplies, was curiously full of very badly parked cars this morning. Inside the store the congestion continued, and I believe it must have been seniors' discount day, judging by how obscenely youthful I suddenly felt.
But these were not your new-age seniors jamming the grocery aisles, those that take salsa lessons at the Chinese Cultural Centre, play basketball, and still care about personal hygiene. No, no, these were most definitely old school seniors. I saw more than one slo-mo mid-aisle shopping cart head-on collision, which went a long way toward explaining the chaos in the parking lot.
When I got back to the urban assault vehicle, I found a big boat of a senior-mobile had parked behind me. Well, sort of behind me; it was straddling sections of three parking spots, but the business end was definitely pointing at the back of my car. And just as I approached, an octogenenarian reached the senior-mobile and clamoured into the driver's seat.
I have never loaded groceries into the back of the urban assault vehicle so fast in my life, convinced that any second the engine of that big boat parked a few inches behind me would roar to life, and the driver would throw the transmission into drive and pin it. Because I had looked into his eyes, and I am pretty sure that he would have no idea why his car wasn't going anywhere as he crushed my lifeless body between his hood and my bumper.