Cone Zone

It occurred to me recently that just as every neighborhood has its share of Peytonian drama, every village also has an idiot. Or idiots as the case may be. I think you have all heard about "Speedbump Alley" which is the only form of access/egress to my neighborhood. The folks that purchased real estate on either side of this main thoroughfare did so willingly, I think. I doubt the real estate broker had a bunch of sod and prancing wildlife installed for the showing and then had it all rolled back up as soon as the ink on the closing docs was dry. It is a ROAD, people. Cars. Vroom, vroom!!!!! Anyway, the existing speed bumps were apparently not sufficient to satisfy the fist-shaking, dirty look hurling homeowners. Nope! They contracted a cracker-jack paving company to not just repave the road but make the speed bumps bigger!!!!! Several broken windshields and jacked suspensions later, summer was once again upon us. And the road started melting. Literally. Oozing, really. Bring on the paving company! To throw gravel all over it! So that now you can't see the speed bumps at all! My out of town visitors arriving today are going to be in for a big-ass surprise when they are ejected from the seats of their rental car. So anyway, I realized while up north that Speed Bump Alley has a sister city of sorts. It's what is known in my family as the "Cone Zone". The Cone Zone is a part of the lake wherein the cottages are separated from their lake frontage by, drumroll please, a ROAD!!!!! This road was not constructed so that your inbred offspring could sit in the middle of it with their grubby little fingers up their respective nostrils. I'm pretty sure it was for CARS!!!!! These folks have all manner of cones, little hat wearing, flag bearing plastic yellow people admonishing us to "SLOW DOWN", etc., etc., placed all over the road. For the record let me state that it is virtually impossible to travel over the posted 25 mph speed limit. This road is barely wide enough for one car to pass let alone two. Therefore I particularly resent it when somebody is giving me the stink-eye for doing what I need to do to get home, which is dare to drive on the public road they chose to live on. Strangely, I'm somewhat of a rule-follower and really do drive slowly. I don't want a "Coney" in my grill. Strangely, my mother, who looks all sweet and innocent, is a bit of a rebel soul. She has gone so far as to attempt to not just run over the cones but boisterously encourages passengers to open their doors as they pass to knock the shit out of the little flag people. She has also been the ringleader in planned (but never executed......as far as YOU know) late night missions to to deface and or toss all offending conery into the lake. That Grandma.......what a cheeky monkey!!!! Anyway, the bottom line is that these muthascratchas need to take responsibilty for their decisions. I live on a golf course. I know there is a chance my house may be pelted by golf balls. I live in Colorado. I know that it will snow. You live on a busy road. There will be cars. So quit your bitchin'.