I am cool, ya’ll. Yes, I may be a grandma, and I may have bad knees, but I am still cool, especially when I drive my Corvette. When you drive a sports car, everybody notices you, and everybody thinks you are cool. Why else would you drive a Corvette?

Youngsters try to challenge you and want to pass or speed by a Corvette. I just keep my cool. If they think they can really take a car that can go 140 mph, let ’em dream. I’m so cool that I don’t even care.

Life in the fast lane is a strange thing when you are a grandma, though. Passing motorists can’t really see you well enough to know that you are a granny off her rocker. So they just look at the car and think if the car is cool, you are too.

Truck drivers honk, or make that sound with their air brakes. What can I do? Get a license plate that says granny? Now that would not be cool. So I just let ’em think that I am actually impressed by tractor-trailers. Don’t want them to believe I’m not cool.

Those bucket seats are sort of getting hard for a grandma with bad knees to get in and out of. I thought of trading it in. The car is getting a little old now. Guess we have a lot in common. But we are both still cool.

The car still looks good and runs good and is paid for, so why trade it? I was younger when I bought the car brand new. Maybe it was one of those midlife crisis things. Of course, I’ll continue to deny that and declare that I bought it because it was cool.

I hate it when I drive to Walmart and can’t find a Corvette parking place. Corvette parking places are at the end of the row, preferably in front where everyone can see you. But Walmart is about as uncool as you can get anyhow. So I don’t worry about it as long as I can find a place where other cars won’t ping it with their doors.

The coolest places to go are those that have valet parking. Valets know that Vettes are cool. They always park it in front of the restaurant or the hotel where it can be seen. They want everyone to know that that they cater to cool customers.

I guess they are surprised when a granny comes crawling out of the car. Actually, I don’t get valet parking as often anymore. I have an image to maintain. I might not look cool getting out with my bad knees and walking cane. I usually get out of it inside the garage, where no one can tell if I’m not looking cool.

My grandkids think I’m about the coolest granny they could possibly have and always want to ride with grandma in her car. Yep, kids know a cool car when they see one. “My grandma drives a race car,” I heard my grandson say once.

So far I can still get in and out and drive it without looking too much like an old fogy. As long as we both hold up and don’t show our age too much, I guess I’ll keep on driving it, even if the only places I have to go are Walmart and the Sonic drive-in.

The cops try to pull over Corvettes for speeding. We’re a target. Guess snagging a Vette gives them bragging rights. The other day I got pulled over for running a red light. (The darn thing was yellow and I didn’t have time to stop, at least in my opinion.) When the cop looked at my license and saw how old I was, he let me go. “You drive careful, mam, and go straight home,” he said.

If ya’ll see a silver streak going down I-24 in the fast lane, that will be me. Go ahead and wave — you know you want to. I’ll wave back because I know what you are thinking. Look at that cool car!

I may be a grandma and I may have bad knees, but I’m still cool, ya’ll.

Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss