The proposal of the Massachusetts’ state legislature to raise the age at which one is eligible to get a license to seventeen and a half is simply preposterous. Supporters of the law argue that teenage drivers are immature and not ready for the responsibility of operating a vehicle that weighs roughly as much as a baby elephant. They argue that teenagers do not fully realize the dangers inherent to driving, and often get into accidents. They can argue all they want, but you can’t dispute the facts: one hundred percent of the supporters of this legislation are ear-hair laden, balding, overly conservative, grouchy geezers who still proudly recollect the good old days when Michael Jackson was still black and people bought American automobiles. It is not the teenage drivers who are reckless. Rather, old people just drive too slowly. As an upperclassman day student (call me, I’m [Editor’s Note: Still!] single), I am one of the select few on campus who has the privilege of maintaining and driving an auto on a regular basis. Often, while cruising the winding, wood-lined roads of my native Boxford, I will find myself tailing some sweater-wearing cat-laden grandma who can hardly see over the steering wheel and can compensate only by driving ten miles per hour under the speed limit at all times. In addition, She has adjusted her left hand mirror to a forty-five degree angle above the ground so that she can see where the yellow line is. Eventually, her sheer audacity for getting in my way becomes overbearing, and I will lay on my musical horn until it has completed through full rounds of “Row, row, row your boat.” When this proves to no avail, I will then overtake her and eventually surpass her in my bright yellow fun-mobile, the Jeep Wrangler. I tend to do this more often when the cloth roof is down. That way, I can be extra obnoxious by way of turning up the Bubba Sparxxx already blaring from the radio. Yes, driving on the wrong side of the road while going around a curve up a hill on a wooded road may be risky, but I say it’s worth it. I haven’t died yet, have I? Point being, driving fast is not a question of maturity. I would eventually pass Granny-the-cat-lady in frustration, putting my life at risk on the curvy roads of Boxford, whether I were seventeen or sixteen. Such is the pace of life here at Andover. As for collisions between teenage drivers and things that aren’t old, such as, for instance, other teenage drivers, I blame Rik Rogers ’07. As a follow up, I find it ludicrous that one of the main arguments for raising the driving age by a year is that the number of teenage driving accidents will drop. No duh, Sherlock. When you have an entire year’s worth fewer of teenage drivers on the road, it follows that fewer teenage drivers will get into accidents. QED, big guy. And for those who still aren’t convinced by this well-thought out and painstakingly researched essay of mine, please allow me to appeal to your misanthropic side. Having sixteen year olds on the road provides, to put it delicately, a state-sponsored mechanism for weeding out the bad apples. Alternatively, you could view each teenage driving related injury as a visit to the school of hard knocks. If you are so bad at driving that you have injured yourself because of it, you should either learn how to drive better or die trying. That’s how my pappy taught me. And I’m an American. Of course, none of this really matters for me, because I can already drive. Tough luck to you freshmen, but honestly it’s not my problem. I would recommend looking into other modes of transportation, such as Segways and rickshaws. For the former, contact Ethan Schmertzler ’07, for the latter, speak with Karl Hirt ’06. Finally, I would like to close by urging you not to be swayed by Jon Adler’s boyish good looks and charismatic personality. I assure you, I am right and he is wrong.
