Gurney's Inn
July 04, 2007


Making a left turn onto a busy street is problematic for women because it requires them to look both ways, a multi-task entirely too complex for the tiny brains god has given them.
Women Drivers And The Crucifixion

Here is an image of the most dangerous person on earth.

No, it is not a Ninja warrior, out to avenge the death of his family.

No, it is not a member of the Soprano's gang.

No, it's not a Navy Seal trained in the deadly art of silent assassination.

I survived an encounter with the most dangerous thing in the world Saturday:

A woman, in the Hamptons, driving an SUV and trying to make a left turn onto Montauk Highway while talking on a cell phone.

I don't want to sound chauvinistic about this, because I value women as mates, lovers, equals, and people who do the laundry. I hope females reading this will not take any of what I write personally, but the sad truth is women in motor vehicles pose a threat to humanity when a cell phone is added to the mix, things can become deadly.

The following are truisms:

God made a terrible mistake giving women driving privileges.

Nine out of every 10 terrible drivers are women, (and the 10th is a Helen Gurley-man). Woman have poor depth perception, women are dyslexic ("Is this a left? Oh sorry!" CRASH!) and woman have the attention span of a chowder clam.

Trucks are made for men.

The size of a man's tires is directly proportional to the size of his sex organ. This is a scientific fact. The art of corralling a big truck think bronco-busting is best left to manly men who can control the beast beneath them. Woman ("Is this the gas pedal?" CRASH!), if they insist on driving, should be given tiny, very slow cars with rubber all around it to prevent them from putting dents in our beloved trucks (and sex organs).

Left turns are a complex maneuver best left to men.

Making a left turn onto a busy street is problematic for women because it requires them to look both ways, a multi-task entirely too complex for the tiny brains god has given them. (Plus, it usually musses their hair to rotate the neck quickly.) Looking left, looking right, and then deciding when to press the gas pedal requires the timing and conditioning god has reserved for athletes, like myself and other men. "I didn't see the bus!" woman will whine after traffic comes to a sudden stop as four different vehicles narrowly avoid an accident. "Hey, how do I put this thing in reverse?"

God invented the cell phone to punish men for crucifying Jesus.

Here is a truism, and please do not take this to heart, ladies: woman blabber uncontrollably about nonsensical things only another blabbering nonsensical woman can tolerate hearing. For decades men have had to put up with this, trapped in the house with a blabbering airhead loudly sputtering gibberish. At least we could get away by going outside. Not any more. Now they have the portable gibberish blabbering device with them wherever they go, and so do all the other blabberers.

So here is what I was confronted with Saturday: A lady, in a Range Rover, making a left from Stephen Hands Path onto Montauk Highway with a cell phone on her ear while gesturing with her hands. Honestly, I could see it coming. I was in the turning lane on the highway, facing east, ready to make a left onto Stephen Hands Path, which by the way, has claimed at least five lives in recent years. I tried to abort my mission, thinking I'd continue onward into East Hampton Village, but the stream of traffic was so thick I was blocked.

Meanwhile, cars and trucks were heading west at a pretty good clip. She saw a small opening and darted out . . . but there was nowhere to go. She stopped, causing two cars heading west to swerve and two others to screech to a halt. She, amazingly, did not hang up the phone, but did look annoyingly at the stopped cars, like they did something wrong. And then, still on the phone, she decided to continue on, as if oblivious to the line of cars. At this point drivers, terrified, were pulling over like there was an out-of-control fire truck whizzing by, sirens blaring. I said a prayer, telling god I was sorry for all the shitty things I've done and apologizing for crucifying Jesus.

Allow me to digress: Jesus was crucified on top of a barren hill after they made him drag the cross up the damn thing. Then, he was nailed to the cross by his hands and feet. Then he was stabbed in the side. Nevertheless, history tells us 5000 Roman soldiers guarded the site to prevent him from escaping until he died three hours later. My question is: even if he managed to get the nails out of his hands and feet (no small task) and even if he didn't bleed to death from the open wound in his side, where did they think he was gonna go? Wouldn't, like, five guards have been plenty? I often ponder these things. Do you know why Jesus returned from the dead on Easter Sunday? Duh! To get his Easter basket, of course.

Anyhow, back to women drivers: I can only beg you please don't make left hand turns, please stop talking on your cell phones (in fact, please stop talking), and for god's sake don't try to operate a manly rig unless you're a manly babe.

Epilogue: The next day in the King Kullen parking lot I watched a woman driver back out of her space. As women of all sizes and shapes do, she turned around and started out, turning the wheel as she did, completely unaware the front of her car was going in the opposite direction of the rear. She was about to put a nice dent in the car to her left when I yelled, "Stop! Stop!" I pointed to the car she was about to hit but she pretended it was never in danger.

"Why don't you mind your own business," she snarled, that annoying look on her face women have perfected. "What's your problem, anyway?" she sneered. Then she sped away, cell phone in hand, no doubt to tell her friends all about it.

That's why my truck (it's the one with the really big tires) was parked all by itself in the back of the lot.

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