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!

 

Advertisements