The Folk Around Us

I’m a blatant voyeur.  I can sit/stand for hours in a public place just watching people.  I frequent the social networks and, of course, Blogland just to get a tiny glimpse into people’s lives.  People fascinate me and I love to see what makes them tick and try and understand what type of people they are.  A bit unfair of me, I know, as I personally abhor it when anyone tries to categorise me into any type of social “box”.  But some folks are just so predictable and easy to square away into a certain character.

Now that I travel a little further to work than before I get to peek at my fellow drivers.

There’s the captain of the glee-club. She looks like an overenthusiastic puppy and happily waves everyone into the lane in front of her.  It’s a surprise she ever gets where she’s going.  Her car is full of all the appropriate charity stickers and she smiles, cries and laughs out loud at whatever is happening on the radio and is perfectly happy in her little bubble.

There’s the typical hot-headed young fella who drives very fast and takes chances.  It clearly makes him feel quite important to be able to get one whole car length in front of you.  He has spent more money than most on his car, more than likely to impress his peers but doesn’t realise that the frustration he’s oozing is simply because he should try more to be himself and make himself happy than “keep up with the Joneses”.

There’s the typical taxi.  Twisted chasis, dents, scrapes and loose exhaust pipe.  The passengers bodies sit staring whilst their minds escape to elsewhere.  The driver hangs his arm out of the window like a primate asleep on a branch with its arm hanging down.  He alternates between racing ahead only to come to a dead stop every 100m.  He tries to intimidate his way through the traffic but thanks anyone who gives way, graciously.

There’s the young working girl who still sports a faded curly “L” on the back window of her financed car.  She sits very low in her seat, up against her steering wheel and stretches her neck to see over her dashboard.  She clutches her steering wheel oblivious to all around her.  Occasionally you will need to hoot to remind her to drive because her obvious terror of driving renders her mind blank from time to time.  She should consider an advanced driving course .......... or maybe five advanced driving courses.

There’s the middle-aged grump – both men and women fall into this category.  They scowl so hard it’s a wonder their windscreens don’t crack.  They look straight ahead with a stony expression and won’t allow you to pull into the lane in front of them even if your car’s indicator has been flashing for the last kilometre.  They’re unhappy within themselves, they’re pissed off with the world and feel that it’s their basic human right to be grumpy (usually their cars are a little elderly, unwashed and a little bumped and scraped – just like they feel).

And me?  I’m the woman in the yellow Beetle. I drive through the traffic singing/dancing/headbanging to the music on my phone and put my make-up on when the robot is red.  I do NOT tolerate bad driving or taxi intimidation and I’m rather an aggressive driver.  I move over for motor cycles and I hoot and shout and flash my lights at people that don’t stop at stop-streets (and NO, I don’t believe a bump-and-go or second gearing it through means you’re stopping).  Other than that I offer a genuine smile when people allow a gap in the traffic – so there.  What category do I fall into?

Next time you’re out in the traffic look around – I’m sure you’ll find folk just like this.  And let me know if I’ve missed anyone.

Happy Day! J