Walking back to work after lunch today, I saw a young chap on a motorbike notice a young woman. He scoped her out carefully, oblivious, of course, to the fact that I even existed, let alone that I was watching him.

He drove past her, then turned at the road I was just then crossing, slowed, stopped and turned to watch her some more.

Whoa. Wrong move, baby.

He made a U-turn and caught up with her just as I did the same. He stopped, pulled out his phone and aimed it right at her.

My phone is old, like me. No camera, no wi-fi. I pulled it out anyway because white hair has power.

He was watching her, but slowly, slowly, he became aware of me.

I had stopped dead right there on the sidewalk. I was noting his license plate and I was not pleased.

“What? Ma’am? What?” he sputtered. “Is there some problem?”

“No.” I said, airily. “No problem. I’m just watching you the same way you’re watching her.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m waiting for a friend!”

“Wait somewhere else.” I said icily. “I saw you. I saw the way you looked at that woman.”

“I’m an MBA student!” he protested. “Why would I do anything wrong?”

“Only you can answer that. All I know is that you need to learn something about respect and you need to get back on your bike and get the hell out of here. I’ve got your number.”

“I’m waiting for a friend!”

I stood my ground, arms folded, staring him down. He revved his bike. He conceded defeat. He roared out of our neighborhood. He drove back up the road, turned left and took himself right out of our lives.

White Haired Women Unite! We have the power. And we owe this much to our daughters and our grand-daughters.

Stay alert. Nip things in the bud. Notice who is doing what and insist that men and boys respect and honor the women they meet on the street.

We have the power. (Never dye your hair.)