When I was a teen, I used to — LITERALLY — beat the stuffing out of my debonair pink flamingo in a black top hat whenever I was feeling pissy. Those hormones raging like Cali wildfires stoked by Santa Ana winds, let me tell you, that flamingo suffered.
But not as much as the tires on 54-yeard old Serena Sutton-Smith’s Vauxhall Nova.
What the quiet country road in the Cotswolds between Weston sub Edge and Mickleton in Gloucestershire, UK had done to the woman to provoke that fatal incident of road rage is completely beyond me. I, also, don’t know if the woman had kids, but if she did not, I cannot fathom the better candidate for a Darwin award. Even if she has procreated, I would still nominate her, as an honorary recipient, if need be. An end such as hers deserves a fiery tribute.
Long and short of it, the woman rammed Paula Small’s stationary Fiat Punto, ground to a halt, and sat there, flooring the gas pedal. The onlookers apparently begged her to step out of the car, but Serena, known to suffer from violent mood swings associated with her bipolar disorder, told them to “F..k off!” and continued spinning her wheels — no pun intended. Spinning them until the tires burst apart, and the sparks from the naked metal rims started flying around, and when they ignited the engine, and when the fire mixed with the fuel.
And yes, you can see where this little story is going.
Life is precious. And losing it, senselessly, with no greater reason than to feed your rage — when I just heard from a friend of mine who is mourning another friend killed in the line of duty with two kids and a young wife left behind — this seems like such an utter, fundamental waste! Life should be worth more than that. But, maybe, it’s just the anger in me talking.