I am angry and frustrated and unsure of what to do next. I don't like being in this mental space.
My dog and I have a regular walking route - north on our relatively unbusy country road to the highway, and back. It's precisely 2 miles. There are no sidewalks, but we walk facing the traffic, and move onto the gravel shoulder as traffic approaches. We burn off some energy, I collect my thoughts, and I wave to all my neighbours along the way.
Yesterday, our peaceful walk was disrupted twice by rowdy teenagers on a joyride. Both times, they were travelling in the same direction that I was walking, so they came up behind me in the opposite lane. The first time, some obscenities were shouted. Later, the passengers blared an airhorn as they passed. It was obnoxious, testosterone driven herd mentality, but not illegal.
Now, I've been an Army wife for 12 years. I understand testosterone-driven obnoxious behaviour. Part of my husband's job as a senior Non-Commissioned Officer is to rein in that behaviour when it is exhibited by 18 year old Privates. Normally, I can let that sort of thing roll off my back.
In this case, I cannot. I recognized the car containing the obnoxious little jerks. It has a custom license plate consisting of a boy's name and a date. It commemorates that family's tragedy. A few years ago, their 12 year old son was killed in an ATV accident. I don't know the family personally, but I have been haunted by that incident. I was on another walk with my dog one summer evening when I saw a kid driving an ATV on a public road, which is illegal in New York State. I had contemplated calling the sheriff about it, but by the time I got back home 1/2 hour later, it would have been a moot point. I also figured that if that child's parents had given him permission to ride around on the 4 wheeler, it wasn't any of my business.
The very next day, the kid was killed when he rode his ATV out onto a very busy highway and directly into the path of an oncoming pickup truck. Was it the same kid? I don't know. Would it have made any difference if I had called the sheriff? Again, I don't know, and that's what haunts me. I didn't want to interfere. A child is dead. I am unable to erase that connection in my mind.
Now, even though the kid was at fault, the family sued the driver of the pickup truck, who was only 20 at the time. Most of the lawsuit was dismissed, but they did win a small settlement on behalf of the older brother, for the mental and emotional trauma of witnessing his brother's death.
Now, it appears that the older brother is old enough to drive. He's moved from one internal combustion engine toy to a bigger one, and it doesn't appear that he's learned any lessons from his brother's death. Moreover, it doesn't appear that the parents have, either.
Part of me wants to leave a note in the family's mailbox, informing them of what I witnessed yesterday. My Mom-sense is tingling, and I fear that they are headed for another tragedy. But my fear of confrontation is overriding my desire to say something. So, in the end, I'll probably do nothing.
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