By Jeff Holbrook

Rachel Veitch, 91, is probably the biggest threat to our country’s national security at the moment. It seems outlandish due to the age of the terrorist, but she has a weapon under her control that is far scarier than any nuclear device: her 46-year-old car. God help us!

This is horrifying. It is insane to think that this woman, dodging what has to be sure death, is dodging it in a ’64 Mercury Comet. The car was purchased in 1964 by her husband for $3289. Not bad for a lethal weapon. Her husband divorced her in the 70s, leaving her the car. She calls it her “Chariot.” We know that chariots were the early, simple forms of carriages, and they were used in both situations of war and peace. Care to guess which one she is plotting?

Veitch was asked what was the fastest she has ever driven the elderly vehicle when she responded one hundred and twenty. Surprised? I wasn’t either. The “Comet” in the car’s make should not be taken literally. I fear for the children of the world’s safety. Their innocence is not meant to be massacred by people that “accidentally” wreck on the way to the Sunday brunch buffet after church.

She has not taken a driver’s test since 2003. WTF? This lady should be tested for every mile she goes in her darling Chariot, for countless lives are at stake with each passing foot. The old timer is no longer permitted to drive the Mercury during the night due to her trouble with night vision. No shit! The woman cannot see during the night, so the Department of Motor Vehicles corrects the issue by allowing her nearly-blind ass cruise around neighborhoods during the day.

If you forget about the woman for a minute, there is still the matter of the car being a geezer itself. It has nearly 600,000 miles on it and is responsible for thirteen percent of vehicular manslaughters that occur in her hometown of Orlando, Florida. The only automobile to kill more people is Stephen King’s Christine. This vehicle has had seventeen battery replacements, eight Midas mufflers, and three sets of shock absorbers. To us, that is like surviving cancer, two cases of AIDS, and twenty-nine fatal bullet wounds.

What are we supposed to do then? Do we stop our children from crossing the streets? Should we lock our kids in their rooms and pray for death to come to the car or Veitch herself? Will we need to ask Morgan Freeman to drive her around for a while like Miss Daisy? Only time will tell. Hopefully it will tell us in the obituary section of the newspaper sooner than later.