Susan Estrich Age 80 should be end of the road for driving Susan Estrich is a nationally syndicated columnist.
My kids say I always pick the wrong line. Put me in a bank or airport or a grocery store, and whichever line I get in, it will move the slowest. That’s why I love my local Albertson’s, with its “three’s a crowd” rule. If more than three people are in line, they open a new one. I also like those long single lines that only break into multiples at the end. But sometimes, you just have to take deep breaths. That’s what I was doing the other morning at the corner Albertson’s. There was a line with one lady in it with about a thousand items in her basket, and one line with an older gentleman who had a total of three items that, together, probably cost less than $5. Easy call, right? Wrong. I got behind the older gentleman with the three items. By the time he was done, or I was, I had read People magazine cover to cover, along with all the tabloids. The first problem was that he couldn’t find his courtesy card. Or rather, he kept showing the checker the wrong one. No, the checker said to him, over and over, that is the CVS card (which happens to be red). This is Albertson’s. The Albertson’s card is blue. He took out his wallet. He put away his wallet. I learned all the lies about Brittany. Deep breath. Again, he showed him the wrong card. Again, he took out the wallet. Patience, I told myself. Someday, hopefully anyway, you’re going to be old. Patience, I told the guy standing behind me, whose line-picking skill was clearly even worse than mine. Two lines over, Ms. Megashopper was whisking those items out of her basket like it was a house on fire. When the checker finally had totaled his three items, which came to something in the $4 range, I watched in horror as the elderly man took out his wallet again to get his credit card. A credit card for three items? It didn’t read on the first sweep. He put it in backward. Or the second. Upside down, I think. I almost offered to do it for him, but the very pleasant checker, who is the assistant manager in real life, did the honors, instead. What could be next? He couldn’t fi nd his shopping list. But wasn’t he done shopping? Isn’t that what it means when, finally, you pay? Not exactly. From somewhere, a list emerged. He studied it carefully, not moving, oblivious to the milk warming and the ice cream melting behind him. I’ve been to this store three times now, he said to the checker-assistant manager, looking for onion soup mix, powdered, and you don’t carry it anymore. Now, even I could have told him that of course they still carried powdered onion soup mix, how else was anyone going to eat potato chips and dip, and it was in the soup aisle, where it always is. But I didn’t have to tell him. The assistant manager, to his credit (being kind to the elderly, to those at the beginning and the end of life, is a measure of our character, the late Hubert Humphrey used to say), not only told him, he sent one of the baggers to get the onion soup. He then told one of the young women at the coffee stand to open up the next checkstand for the sole purpose of ringing out this man’s purchase of dry soup. In a second, the bagger was back with the soup, the next checkstand was open, and I watched as the process repeated itself: First, he couldn’t find his courtesy card, so he showed the wrong one. Then, he had to find his credit card, then figure out how to sweep it through the machine, then take the bag with the onion soup mix and add it to his other bags. All of which took him about the same time as it took me to spend hundreds of dollars on food that won’t feed my kids for a week. I left the store feeling lucky. Lucky that I shopped at a store nice enough to take extra time with a very slow, confused gentleman. Lucky that my kids are still at home and that the day hasn’t come yet when a trip to the market for me involves the purchase of four items totaling less than four dollars. Lucky to feel part of my community. That feeling of warmth continued as I pushed my cart to my car, unloaded all the bags in the trunk and back seat, and got in to start the engine. And then it stopped. Flat. Getting into the car next to me, slowly, painfully slowly, almost dropping one of his four items, was the older man. He was alone. He looked very confused, as he had from the moment I saw him in the market. But now he was armed with a dangerous weapon. He was about to drive. If you can’t tell the difference between the red CVS card and the blue Albertson’s one, if you can’t find the soup in three tries, figure out how to pay by credit card in two, find your shopping list at all, if you can’t see what’s staring you in the face on aisle eight, how are you going to see the stop sign at the corner (and it’s my corner), the kid who races into the street for a ball (and it’s my neighbor’s kid), the dog who gets out when the gardener lets him out (who could be mine), the teenager who takes the turn too wide on her first trip around the block? If shopping is such a challenge that it takes all the generosity of spirit of customers and employees alike not to tell you to get a move on, what about driving? I waited (and it took awhile) for the man to get his bearings and back out. Then he came to a complete stop, for no apparent reason, and sat stopped while the cars behind him started to honk. Then he started, painfully slowly, to literally crawl out of the lot. I thought if he didn’t hit someone, or someone didn’t hit him, right there, they probably would the minute they escaped his turtle’s pace. I live in Santa Monica, Calif. It was just a few years ago that an elderly man plowed into our local farmers market at midday, apparently pressing the accelerator instead of the brake, and cost numerous shoppers and vendors their lives. Among the teenagers in my daughter’s crowd, Santa Monica is known as the toughest place to get a license, because ever since then, they expect applicants to know how to drive. Fine. But 16-year-olds tend to get better with experience, no matter how rocky they are on the day they take the road test. Age does not improve elderly driving. My son is almost 15. He thinks he should be able to drive. He claims he’d be as good as his sister. I’m sure there are 14- and 15-year-olds who would be fine drivers. But we set the line at 16. Below that age, it doesn’t matter how well you drive. It’s arbitrary, but so what? We need to have a line, even if it’s not perfect, even if it includes some people who could drive perfectly well. Better to keep a few good drivers off the road than risk even more bad ones. Isn’t the same true of drivers over 80?
In my humble opinion licenses should be revoked on an individual basis as there are some pretty sharp seniors out there and some are over ninety and can drive better than many people in their 50's who have some sort of problems. You can't discriminate against a person because of their age and if an individual has had an number of accidents then motor vehicle should call the person in for an evaluation regardless of age and check that persons ability to drive.
My father in law is 81, he is sharp as a tack and can probably work many of these kids into the ground. He is an amazing man. I have seen others that are in their 70's that have to literally pick their legs up to get them into the car and drive away......20 minutes after the process. I also say it should be on a case by case basis.
I have seen old folks have their driver's license taken away and it is all downhill for them from that point on! I'm not saying it is warrented, but it is so so sad!
When the INSANE are running the ASYLUM In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule. -- Friedrich Nietzsche
“How fortunate for those in power that people never think.” Adolph Hitler
There are more bad 16 and 17 year old drivers than there are bad 80 year old drivers.....not to mention the wisdom that comes with age to know when to stop driving.....
the accidents in the news almost always involve teens......
...you are a product of your environment, your environment is a product of your priorities, your priorities are a product of you......
The replacement of morality and conscience with law produces a deadly paradox.
STOP BEING GOOD DEMOCRATS---STOP BEING GOOD REPUBLICANS--START BEING GOOD AMERICANS
Re Nov. 9 Susan Estrich column, “Age 80 should be end of the road for driving”: Oh, really? You can’t become an emancipated adult until you are 16. Under that age, you’re the responsibility of the state or your parents. No one wants 16-year-old drivers. As it is, most crashes, including deadly ones, are caused by young adults. Over 16, you may have to take care of yourself, needing a license. It is not a game; it is life-and-death, survival and freedom. Ms. Estrich can afford a chauffeur; most people can’t, and lack family willing to be the same. BETH JACOBS Niskayuna
Re Nov. 9 Susan Estrich column, “Age 80 should be end of the road for driving”; I could not possibly disagree more with the sweeping generalization. While I don’t disagree with her that the gentleman she describes in her column should probably not be driving, setting a hard age limit hardly makes sense, when not all seniors are so confused. As evidence, I introduce my grandfather. He died at the age of 86 from a heart attack. Up to that point, he was sharp as a tack, successfully holding together a vegetable farm in an increasingly hostile environment, and an excellent driver — better, I dare say, than I have ever been. As if this were not enough, setting a hard upper limit on driving age smacks of age discrimination. I have a solution: driver’s license recertification. You take a test to get your license; and every few years, you take a test to keep your license. It doesn’t matter if you are 23 or 103; if you can’t pass a driving test, you lose your license. It is truly, fundamentally fair, it gets the bad drivers of all ages off the streets, and it allows those who have had the good fortune to maintain their wits and health into their senior years to continue to reap the benefi ts of citizenship. GLENN C. LASHER JR. Schenectady
Well Glen, I agree with you in part. If we must get tested every few years, how much will it cost us? It would end up costing the state more money in paperwork and extra public employees, paid for by none other than US, the taxpayer. Just another layer of government and more buracracy!
When the INSANE are running the ASYLUM In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule. -- Friedrich Nietzsche
“How fortunate for those in power that people never think.” Adolph Hitler
I still maintain that retesting is not called for unless there has been some accidents or infractions committed by a said driver other wise it'll be a waste of money to have everyone tested periodically.
Don’t be so quick to yank licenses of elderly drivers
Re the Nov. 9 Susan Estrich column, “Age 80 should be end of the road for driving”: Today is Veterans Day, and I am very grateful that I have survived to the 80-plus group referred to in this column. I am also very offended to be referred to as a group to be discarded as no longer useful in this world. WILLIAM. H. BEECHER Clifton Park The writer is a WWII Navy veteran.
Although I respect and admire Mr. Beecher's history, and even though I disagree with setting an age limit on driving in later life, I think that the original article was not intended to 'discard' the elderly and imply that they were no longer useful. I read it as a safety issue and perceiving that the elderly are not safe drivers. I guess if I were 80years old, I would have taken it the same as Mr. Beecher did.
When the INSANE are running the ASYLUM In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule. -- Friedrich Nietzsche
“How fortunate for those in power that people never think.” Adolph Hitler
If there is mandated retesting,,,,just think of all the fees collected(for what) and the newly created jobs and the new regulations the insurance companies can weild like swords at us.......
...you are a product of your environment, your environment is a product of your priorities, your priorities are a product of you......
The replacement of morality and conscience with law produces a deadly paradox.
STOP BEING GOOD DEMOCRATS---STOP BEING GOOD REPUBLICANS--START BEING GOOD AMERICANS
I enjoyed Elizabeth Fabian’s Nov. 27 letter, “Old drivers aren’t the problem, it’s the young.” And I wholeheartedly agree with her. NADINE PURTORTI Rotterdam
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