Mrs. Goody Two Shoes

Yes, that’s me—Mrs. Goody Two Shoes. I stop at all stop signs, even when they are in parking lots. The Crankee Yankee claims that stop signs “don’t count” in a parking lot. If so, why are they there? So I stop.

If the speed limit is 70, I drive 70; on occasion I may go all the way up to 75. If my cell phone rings while I’m driving, I pull over, stop the car, shut off the engine and then answer it. (I don’t worry about texting; I have never sent or received a text in my life, and I’d like to keep it that way.)

Since the Crankee Yankee and I live on a residential street with no sidewalks, we are aware of all the speeders who take our little 20 MPH road as a fast shortcut to the nearby golf course. I can’t tell you how fast they are going, but I know it isn’t 20 MPH. Call me naive, but if the posted speed limit in a residential area is 20 MPH, why in the world does anyone need to drive faster than that? (This is of course a rhetorical question….)

My standard answer to these speed demons is usually this: they must 1) have a woman in labor in the car, or 2) they must really have to pee.

If someone is ready to cross the street on a walkway, I stop. I don’t park in loading zones, handicapped spots or No Parking places as I am not loading or unloading anything, I’m not handicapped, and No Parking means no parking. 

I honestly don’t understand people who, when ticketed for parking somewhere where it clearly states “No Parking” get all bent out of shape when they get a ticket.

“But I was only in the store for a MINUTE!” they wail. No excuse—you get a ticket because you are not supposed to park there—that’s why there is a SIGN.

So why am I boring you all with my Mrs. Goody Two Shoes-ness? It’s because I believe in following the law, reading the signs and accepting that rules are rules. I don’t like being in trouble, so I do my best to avoid it. Ignorance (or just plain willful disobedience) of the law is no excuse. It’s not that I think that I am better than anyone else, it’s just that I try to avoid conflict whenever possible.

I also use my directional signals; always. The Crankee Yankee thinks I am silly to do this; he feels that many times the direction is just “assumed” by the cars behind me. But I don’t assume anything; especially drivers who may not pay attention. Using directionals has become habitual with me, and I’d rather have it be a habit than not.

One day a few years ago, I was on the highway on the way to my new eye doctor’s building. I’d only been there once, so I had the directions printed on a piece of paper so I wouldn’t get lost. Well, I must have glanced at it once too often because a state trooper pulled me over. He asked me if I had been texting and driving.

I told him that I hadn’t, explained my situation, and showed him the paper with directions. He was happy that I hadn’t been texting, but admonished me to be careful and keep my eyes on the road.

I was a bit embarrassed, but I told him I would be careful, and I thanked him for watching out for those who do text and drive. That was my fault; I should have just memorized the directions.

I’ve been a Mrs. Goody Two Shoes for so long now that it’s an ingrained habit. It’s sort of a personal pact I make with myself each day. I’m sure that I’m not the only Goody Two Shoes out there, but being one makes me feel that I’m doing something right each day!


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