I like to think I’m quite a patient person.  Really I do.  And then I turned 40.  The little patience I did have went out of the window along with taught skin, short skirts and a strong bladder.

Driving during the day means I come across a certain type of driver.  Daytime drivers are the opposite of rush-hour drivers – they are in no rush to get anywhere.  And therein lies the problem. 

Daytime drivers!  Why must you annoy me so?!

I’ll give you an example.  On my way to my café/office today, I got stuck behind a turquoise Mini Metro.  First of all, are those cars really still in circulation?  Secondly, the car was so slow it would have been faster had she put her feet through the floor and ran on the ground like Fred Flintstone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no particular hurry to do my grocery shopping.  I can quite easily put off toilet roll shopping.  But would you get a bloody move on woman?!

Second incident of the day.  I’m parked in the multi-storey car park.  It’s lunchtime.  It’s busy.  Spaces are at a premium.  So when I see a car pull up and park behind my car as it wants my spot – I’m cool with that.  I don’t dawdle.  We’ve all been there.  I think I even broke out into a light jog as I took my trolley back and rushed back to my car.  Now here’s the part I don’t get.  If you want my space, why are you now blocking me in?  My reverse lights are on.  Back it up a little so I can get out and be on my way and you can jump in my grave.  And then … then, he gets out of his car to ‘helpfully’ see my car out!  My temples are throbbing by now at his incompetence.

I ended up having to do what I really, really didn’t want to have to do – I unwound my window and yelled at him in the same way I yell at my youngest when I’ve trodden on his Lego again.   Not cool.

This is just a typical day of morosity on the roads.  The trouble is, it’s really getting to me.  Even my teen was shocked by the prophanities that came out of my mouth last week when I got given the finger as they pulled out in front of me!  When I get going, I’m like the Exorcist, and my English degree really comes into its own when I’m able to create a whole array of new swear words – typically involving male appendages.

Tomorrow, I vow to relax a little.  So what if the person in front drives as slow as a snail?!  Who cares if that scooter with the ear-splitting screech pulls out in front of me again right at the last minute?!  And if I get blocked in at the car park again … I’m going to yank him out of his car through his sunroof so fast, he … oops.

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.