“Ya drive like a senior-citizen!”

So here I am quietly navigating the Bathtub toward Frank Baker Park in Canandaigua, a park our new dog has never been to yet.
Baker Park, a big park, is nearly completely fenced, so we used to take Killian there and let him run loose.
But there were gaps and small openings in the fence, so letting Killian run loose was nerve-wracking — although he, of course, was thrilled.
Killian would find the flaws and leave the park if he saw a critter to chase.
Irish-Setters are very independent; especially Killian.
Our trip was combined with the usual surfeit of errands, one of which was to dump mail in the drive-by mailboxes at the Bloomfield Post Office.
So here at am in the center of Bloomfield stopped east on 5&20 about to turn left (north) onto South Ave.
It’s the main intersection in town; and a motorbike is approaching west at the speed-limit, which is 35.
He’s about 200 yards away.
I’ve been in his shoes, but can imagine the following exchange with the Bluster-Boy.
“What are ya waiting for?” he bellows.
“So I don’t scare that motorbiker to death.”
“Ya drive like a senior-citizen! Why can’tcha just cut the guy off?”
“Because I been in his shoes. I don’t want to scare him to death. Waiting five more seconds ain’t that much.”
“I would.”
Yeah. This is the same guy that had me broadsiding a semi, and then would noisily claim the semi was at fault for being there.

The “Bathtub” is our 2005 Toyota Sienna van; called that because it’s white and like sitting in a bathtub.

“Killian” was our previous dog; a rescue Irish-Setter. He had lymphatic cancer, and didn’t survive. —He was over 10; we never knew his birthdate.

“5&20” is the main east-west road through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where we live.

The “Bluster-Boy” is my all-knowing, blowhard brother-in-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say.

RE: “Ya drive like a senior-citizen!” —I’m 64.

RE: “This is the same guy that had me broadsiding a semi.......” —In Altoona, Pennsylvania he was riding shotgun, and wanted me to change lanes across a single white dividing-line into a passing semi. “I would,” he said.