Changing Times

Today I was driving behind a Masshole, which is what we here in Maine call drivers from Massachusetts, and wow, was she ever one. Besides being a terrible driver -- not signalling ever and going way too slow to qualify for the left lane -- the back of her Toyota Corolla was plastered with bumper stickers for Hillary Clinton. I got a chance to see them up close for a really long time, and they sure were stupid. One of them said, "I'm ready for Hillary for President." I wondered how one gets ready for that, and what not being ready for it looks like. Another one simply said "Madame President." There were others, maybe eight or ten in all, slapped on willy-nilly.

These days, with terrorists eager to blow you up or shoot you down, I find it surprising that people drive around wearing their hearts on their sleeves, which is essentially what a bumper sticker does. I want the stranger in the car next to me, ahead of me and behind me to know as little about me as possible. I'm already putting myself out there by driving a bright red car; they certainly don't need more information, least of all what my other car is or where my child is an honor student.

The only bumper sticker I ever displayed was EAT BERTHA'S MUSSELS, which referred to a funky seafood restaurant (Bertha's) in Baltimore's Fells Point neighborhood. Other people with a Bertha's bumper sticker would honk as they passed by. It was sort of like being in a cool club of fun people. It even got me out of a ticket one time, when the cop who pulled me over for going through a yellow light that might have been red decided to let me off with a warning because, as he said, "Anyone who eats at Bertha's is okay in my book." That was back in the early 1980s, when Baltimore was safe and sane. Today that same cop would likely arrest me or shoot me on the spot.