Driving

Just an idea but if you can’t drive, drive a vehicle that can’t go above 15 miles an hour or are scared of other cars and like to veer violent sideways whenever you see a car on the other side of the road, then perhaps, just perhaps you shouldn’t be on the road during rush hour. This morning I got stuck behind a man being towed and frigging dial a ride. Pensioners have all day at their disposal – why dial a ride for 8-30 in the morning? I assume for the same reason they go to the post office at lunchtime – to cause trouble and start fights.

I don’t spend a lot of time pondering my own death, not being a goth, but I would like to imagine it will be around the age of 95 surrounded by loved ones. The way my pension plans are going it will probably be shortly after the age of 65 in a box on a street corner. However I definitely don’t want it to be at the hands of some yummy mummy in 4x4 steaming down the middle of the road to drop a child off at the fluffybunnykins nursery. I do not want my last words to be “are you going to move over…”. If you insist on driving a monster truck around town then may I suggest you drive it on your side of the road.

Perhaps it is car envy. I have only ever driven little cars. Except a hire car which I got when I was lavishly upgraded when a friend and I decided to drive round Tasmania. We ordered a fiat punto or something and got, well, a monster truck. For which we were supremely grateful given that the west coast of Tasmania is all hills and few roads. It wasn’t until one night when unable to sleep and I didn’t have a book I read our rental agreement which said that the car was not covered to go along the west coast and in no circumstances was to go there. Still what the mind doesn’t know the heart doesn’t grieve over and apart from one terrifying moment when I tried to drive up the largest sand dunes I have ever seen, we were fine. Worth remembering though that when you return the hire car and they accuse you or scratching it don’t say “I didn’t do that… I did that” and point out a huge dent. Also don’t park the car in the entrance of the rental shop and walk off with the keys in your bag. They won’t thank you for it.

I leant my car to someone recently and they actually tidied it for me, which was nice. Although given that it is pretty much a skip on wheels I’d imagine they had to clear a spot to sit down. However when they gave it back they had the seat so far forward that I knee capped myself when I tried to get in, I actually couldn’t get my knees under the steering wheel. I know I have fat thighs but they’re not debilitatingly big. The borrower must have been pinned through the pelvis by the steering wheel. Or been an actual borrower.

People’s driving techniques get worse in the winter. Fog lights remain on at all time, regardless of weather making you think that the person in front of you is constantly breaking. People like to have their full beams on as well, which is lovely and safe. One day I shall buy a tank. A big armoured tank. And steam down the middle of the road waving at the people who flee in my wake. Although I am not sure where I would park it. A friend of my parents once confessed over dinner that he had bought a fire engine, which came as news to his wife. I don’t think she was that bothered about the fire engine but rather objected to the barn he had to buy to house it and the HGV lessons he took in order to drive it. Still maybe I can use his barn to house my tank.