Driven
Yesterday my parents traded in their '99 Subaru WRX for an '06 Subaru Liberty GT turbo. Since the Liberty is having a few optional extras installed and won't be ready for a week, they've kept the WRX as a sort of loaner. Or rather I've kept it, since they flew out for a holiday in Sydney last night.
As I dropped them off at the airport, my father said to me, "Have fun driving the WRX, and don't worry about cleaning it or refuelling it before giving it back, because it'll be going straight to the car yard. But whatever you do, just don't damage it, since it's not technically ours anymore."
No problemo, I said.
However it seems I was wrong. There is a problemo. Ever since they sold the car, every other motorist on the road has been trying to destroy it!
This morning on the freeway, a ditz in a Hyundai, who'd driven across the length of the Narrows Bridge straddling two lanes for no apparent reason, suddenly decided that she wanted to use the Mounts Bay Road exit. So she indicated left and waited for someone to let her across. Unfortunately, she did this at the exact point where the offramp and the freeway parted company, so "waiting" meant "stopping". On the freeway. During rush hour.
To make matters worse, the car ahead of me was a student on P plates, so of course he panicked and slammed on his brakes, thinking that she was about to bolt into his path like an brainless, excitable dog. I had to brake so hard that everything loose in the cabin flew up and pummelled the dashboard. I missed him by mere inches.
Then, of course, the Hyundai driver paused some more. You could almost see the thought bubbles; "Oh, are you letting me in? Are you sure? It's not too much trouble? Oh, alright then. Now, wait, I've forgotten... which pedal makes the car go forward?"
Eventually she made her move, and her own little traffic jam slowly dispersed. I spent the rest of my journey to my office wondering if those Islamic countries that don't allow women to drive might be onto something.
But that's not fair - bad driving knows no gender, as I discovered in the office car park. I pulled in behind a late model Volkswagen and drove behind him for a hundred metres or so, until we reached a dead end in the carpark with no empty bays. He threw his car into reverse and started to back up. I put the WRX into reverse, but as I started to ease off the clutch I realised that he wasn't carefully creeping back - he was coming backwards at speed. The dipwad hadn't checked his rear mirror before reversing.
He'll see me any second now, I thought, as I started to reverse. But he was still coming backwards, and he was gaining on me. Just before I was forced to back into a line of parked cars, I blasted my horn, and he finally noticed that, well, what do you know, there are other people driving their cars in this car park today!
Happily, as we both backed out, I discovered the last empty space in the car park and pulled into it. Take that, sucker! Frankly, I think that this little piece of karmic sweetener was the only reason I didn't go postal and chase after him to hurl a brick through his expensive German windshield.
Now, of course, I'm worried about what will happen on the way home tonight. A confused pensioner in a Toyota Crown driving the wrong way around a roundabout? A removalists' truck disgorging someone's living room furniture into my path? Or just another BRAIN-DEAD TROLL TOO BUSY THINKING ABOUT WHO THEY'LL VOTE FOR ON 'BIG BROTHER' TO CONCENTRATE ON THE INTRICACIES OF NOT DRIVING A TON OF METAL INTO OTHER MOVING OBJECTS!
Only time will tell.
As I dropped them off at the airport, my father said to me, "Have fun driving the WRX, and don't worry about cleaning it or refuelling it before giving it back, because it'll be going straight to the car yard. But whatever you do, just don't damage it, since it's not technically ours anymore."
No problemo, I said.
However it seems I was wrong. There is a problemo. Ever since they sold the car, every other motorist on the road has been trying to destroy it!
This morning on the freeway, a ditz in a Hyundai, who'd driven across the length of the Narrows Bridge straddling two lanes for no apparent reason, suddenly decided that she wanted to use the Mounts Bay Road exit. So she indicated left and waited for someone to let her across. Unfortunately, she did this at the exact point where the offramp and the freeway parted company, so "waiting" meant "stopping". On the freeway. During rush hour.
To make matters worse, the car ahead of me was a student on P plates, so of course he panicked and slammed on his brakes, thinking that she was about to bolt into his path like an brainless, excitable dog. I had to brake so hard that everything loose in the cabin flew up and pummelled the dashboard. I missed him by mere inches.
Then, of course, the Hyundai driver paused some more. You could almost see the thought bubbles; "Oh, are you letting me in? Are you sure? It's not too much trouble? Oh, alright then. Now, wait, I've forgotten... which pedal makes the car go forward?"
Eventually she made her move, and her own little traffic jam slowly dispersed. I spent the rest of my journey to my office wondering if those Islamic countries that don't allow women to drive might be onto something.
But that's not fair - bad driving knows no gender, as I discovered in the office car park. I pulled in behind a late model Volkswagen and drove behind him for a hundred metres or so, until we reached a dead end in the carpark with no empty bays. He threw his car into reverse and started to back up. I put the WRX into reverse, but as I started to ease off the clutch I realised that he wasn't carefully creeping back - he was coming backwards at speed. The dipwad hadn't checked his rear mirror before reversing.
He'll see me any second now, I thought, as I started to reverse. But he was still coming backwards, and he was gaining on me. Just before I was forced to back into a line of parked cars, I blasted my horn, and he finally noticed that, well, what do you know, there are other people driving their cars in this car park today!
Happily, as we both backed out, I discovered the last empty space in the car park and pulled into it. Take that, sucker! Frankly, I think that this little piece of karmic sweetener was the only reason I didn't go postal and chase after him to hurl a brick through his expensive German windshield.
Now, of course, I'm worried about what will happen on the way home tonight. A confused pensioner in a Toyota Crown driving the wrong way around a roundabout? A removalists' truck disgorging someone's living room furniture into my path? Or just another BRAIN-DEAD TROLL TOO BUSY THINKING ABOUT WHO THEY'LL VOTE FOR ON 'BIG BROTHER' TO CONCENTRATE ON THE INTRICACIES OF NOT DRIVING A TON OF METAL INTO OTHER MOVING OBJECTS!
Only time will tell.
posted by Blandwagon at 12:18 PM
1 Comments:
I know I'm not the best driver in the world, and people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones yada yada, and that perhaps it is because I rent in Applecross, which is full of rich people whose only mental stimuli is what time to pick up their spoilt kids from school, or how to screw their business partners over, but ...
Is it just me, or are all latest model BMW and Jeep/Landcruiser drivers freaking MORONS????
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