I’m not a parent. The closest I come is being the aunt to the apple-of-my-eye niece and nephew. But driving home from work yesterday, I saw something that really pissed me off: a mother driving around with an infant seat in the back of her convertible. (Shocking, eh? Read on.)
Coupled with that, she was tear-assing down Quebec St., a notoriously busy street that’s perpetually under construction and riddled with commuter cyclists and pedestrian traffic..
Lady, you spent nine months gestating that baby, and by the looks of your expertly-maintained faux-blonde locks, I would think you pay more attention to your hair than the fact you have an infant child in your car. That kid goes where you go because they can’t make decisions (or bitch slap you, for that matter) on their own yet. Why on earth would you let your vanity rule and place your child in an open can of tuna fish and throw them into a pool with sharks?
I understand that you love your convertible Beemer. It’s very pretty. But none of you – not you, your car, nor your child – are going to be nearly as pretty when you swerve around a cyclist 15 feet wider than you have to into the oncoming traffic lane and get hit head-on by another car.
There is nothing that cannot wait until you arrive when you have a child in the car. But then again, what do I know? I’m just the lady driving behind you, listening to the horns blare and watching middle fingers rise in protest of the “skillful maneuvering” of your precision German driving machine. I think putting your kid in a car seat in a convertible is just as safe as putting said car seat on the back of a motorcycle. I understand that convertibles are generally heavier and less likely to roll, so don’t try throwing the science/physics thing at me. I know people ride around all the time with kids in bike seats and in trailers in tow…
but I was just thinking that maybe you’d want to slow the fuck down with an infant child in the car. Or if you’re going to continue to drive like a bitch on wheels, at least get a car with a lid on it to protect the one who can’t protect himself.