Driving Me Crazy

This weekend just past the universe thought it appropriate to teach me a little lesson in patience on the road.  May I begin by saying that, having displayed furious road rage all my driving life, I only really started making an effort not to send my anger-meter off the scale recently and this thanks to my beautiful daughter and my sage Krav Maga instructor.  But somewhere, somehow, someone decided this wasn’t good enough and I was taking too long.

 

Enter Saturday.  One way I try and ensure calm is to plan properly so as to be on time and afford myself a tranquil, smiley journey.  Saturday was no different.  My Jerry was participating at her year-end dance showcase.  She needed to be at the venue at 16h00.  It is approximately 30 minutes from my house.  Add 10 minutes for eventualities and off we go.

 

I decided to take Witkoppen (the most popular road from west-roughly to north-roughly).  We head merrily along and I wander across to the left lane because the building of a new bridge next to the mall has brought the normally three-lane road down to a single lane.

 

And there it is: the first glaring lesson!  Some clueless little tin-god has decided to close the most used west-to-north road off ... completely!!!!!!!!!!  My pulse rate and adrenalin start preparing me for a little adventure.  Some large yellow signs point a detour around the mall.  So we (all ±50 vehicles) stumble off to the right.  Our confidence of driving bravely along the road we know and love has crumbled and we head into the uncertainty of a detour.  Unfortunately the lack of confidence causes lack of speed and we crawl towards a robot with no visible turning arrow.  Ah! But a sign of hope.  Two teeny ladies dressed in black with luminous waistcoats that yell “traffic controller!” All is not lost.

 

Except it is, of course.

 

Said teeny ladies are standing on the side of the road drinking water.  Perhaps they felt we were more than capable of crawling at two miles a fortnight around the intersection, perhaps they were too scared of the (by now) hundreds of cars waiting to turn, perhaps they just decided they didn’t feel like controlling traffic any more.  Whatever the reason I gripped my steering wheel tightly as I crept past them to prevent myself from opening my window and giving them each a smart slap upside the head.  Just breathe, Lynda, just breathe!

 

We hoof over a small hill only to find the traffic once again at a standstill.  A (possibly the same) little tin-god arranged for the three lanes at the back of the mall to similarly be narrowed to two lanes.  And some moron has caused an accident in one of the lanes reducing it even further to one lane.

 

Before entering the fray I glance in the rear view mirror.  One look at the desperate pinched little face of my “baby” (I’m going to be late!!!) switched me into SuperMom mode.  I swung the car left at the robot.  I’ll head down the next road and wind my way through suburbia a little.  Enter the second lesson:  I haven’t driven in Fourways for quite a few decades.  Some silly bum decided to build a boomed estate at the end of the “next road” and the boom, the #%&@$ boom, blocks our thoroughfare.  By now my blood pressure has risen to tsunami proportions.

 

With my tail between my legs I return to the single-laned road at the back of the mall.  Enter the third lesson:  as we inch our way along towards freedom first one, and then quite a few, cheeky buggers head along a turning lane in order to jump the queue.  This makes me a little cross but it’s a regular occurrence in our lawless town and there’s not a lot one can do about it.  What DOES send my blood pressure shooting straight through the roof of my car and about 200m up into the air are the weak, spineless, feeble, pathetic SHEEP letting them into the queue.  Don’t.Help.Them.Break.The.Law!!! Let them sit in the queue waiting their turn like the rest of us.  Seriously, the guy breaking the law is one thing.  That’s his issue and not mine, but the sheep who allow them into the queue, thereby making the law-abiding citizens have to wait even longer, should be hung, drawn and quartered.  And I’m dead serious.  I can’t bear this type of contemptible and loathsome behaviour!!  Breathe, Lynda, just breathe!!

 

After what felt like a good few weeks we finally reached the end of the detour.  I put on my best cowboy face, yelled “Yeeha” and pushed my little car to her limits.  My poor family were thrown about the interior of the car like frightened chickens but my little dancer arrived for her prima hip-hop-lerina moment only 12 minutes late.

 

Ok, so I did allow myself one moment where I absolutely had to show one vehicle/driver my best middle finger but I think I did alright, eh universe?  Can we not do that again for a long time, please?

 

Happy Day!