An open letter to the Punk Skateboarder who Rides On My Street (PSWROMS)

Dear PSWROMS,

Every day, you ride your skateboard up my street. My street is a private road; it took me a long time to figure out exactly where you were going. My first concern however, was that it was the middle of the day and you should be in school. Once I determined you don’t attend school, at least not during normal school hours, I determined you were visiting our neighbor at the top of the road (NATOR,) who is also a non-traditional student, as in, she doesn’t go. She is rarely home, however. Oftentimes, you will just ride up and down my street until NATOR comes home. I find this annoying.

What I find curious however is that even when NATOR arrives, you rarely stay. She will pull in, and within two minutes of her arrival, you will leave. This phenomenon has lead me to believe that you are up to no good. I started coming up with all kinds of scenarios as to why you would hang around and then leave within two minutes of her arrival. My conclusions were, A) you were stalking her; B) you were making some kind of nefarious “exchange” with her when she arrived.

Then about two weeks ago, she picked you up, and you drove off into the sunset together, only to return 20 minutes later (yes, I have no life and watching the sordid activities of the teens on my street entertains me. Plus, NATOR drives like a bat out of hell, so it’s hard to miss her.) I thus concluded you weren’t stalking her, and option “B” was more likely.

I still haven’t seen what you do, exactly, only that you go back and forth several times a day and it annoys me. Why? Because every time you go up and down the street the dogs in the neighborhood go nutty. Also, you ride in the middle of the street as if you are in some kind of parade and everyone else can just wait for you. That is obnoxious, but I’m sure you don’t care, because you are a teen and thus the world obviously revolves around you.

Yesterday, your obnoxious behavior hit new heights and I almost killed you as a result. No I’m not kidding, you should know, you were there.

I was pulling down the road, slowly, because the little neighbor children were playing and I was being cautious. It is certainly a good thing, because had I been driving normal speed, as in, faster than the 10 miles an hour I was driving, you would be quite dead right now.

You were riding on your skateboard, but you were sitting on it, as if you were in the luge. Somehow, in your idiot teen brain, riding on a skateboard in a seated position is not only fun, but also a brilliant idea. And so you were riding, luge style and you came whipping around the corner, from the main road, the road where traffic drives at 50 miles per hour. You came whipping around the corner and crossed out in front of me; I slammed on my brakes and you missed my front left tire by less than a foot.

12 inches or less, and you would have been road meat. As in squashed, dead, no more.

I stopped, screamed threw my hands up in the air and looked at you with a “what in the hell?!?!” kind of face; you gave me a big smirk. Then you waved and continued down the road, seated.

You WAVED and you SMIRKED at me? You little $#!% head. It was all I could do not to jump out of my jeep, grab you by the shoulders and shake you a bit. You have no clue how close you just came to death. You think it’s all a joke, but it’s not a joke, it’s very serious and I almost ran over you, with my very big, very heavy SUV. You are lucky it was me driving and not your friend, because she drives like an idiot, she never slows down, and had it been her, you would be very, very dead.

I wanted to grab you and yell at you and shake you until you understood how serious it was. I wanted to make you afraid, I wanted to call your mother and explain the severity of the situation until everyone was so scared that she would drive down here and shake you herself, until you were crying you were so afraid.

But I didn’t do any of these things.

I didn't because you waved at me and when you waved, I realized that my yelling at you would do no good. You would look at me like a crazy person and you would joke with your friends about the crazy lady who live in the house down from NATOR, who jumped out and yelled at you that one time.

But rest assured you little punk; I’m not done with you. The next time I see you, I’m headed out of my house to have a nice, cordial little chat. I was shaking yesterday. I was shaking, and I was crying and I was upset, because I almost killed a kid on a skateboard and so I just drove on and left you alone.

But I’ve calmed down now, and now I’m going to calmly talk to you, because you need somebody to point out to you that you nearly ate it yesterday. You may still roll your eyes at me and that’s fine. But you’re not going to continue past this house without at least talking with me, knowing that somebody cares that you lived to tell the tale.

Thank you.