I used to drive a van and people had respect for van-drivers. Not so drivers of a 4x4. And rightly so I might add.
Before the van I had a Pajero and I remember well the time it needed a service. The kids and I got up extra early, drove to Burwood to drop it off and collected a loan car - a Colt - in an unfortunate shade of copper that forced me to dub it 'The Poo.' The kids were small but filled the car and the boot barely had room for school bags!
 |
| From this.... |
 |
| .... to this. |
Nevertheless, off we shot!
As we hurtled into the narrow street to school, I found myself confronted by a very large, very European 4x4. I had actually entered the tunnel of similar vehicles first - not that the driver cared as she bore down on us and mouthed some pretty clear words at me. Bloody hell! Just because you drive a big car and I'm in a little poo does NOT make you queen of the road.... but actually, it did. She refused to budge. Frankly I was lucky she didn't decide to drive right over the top of me, monster-truck like. So I popped the poo into reverse and edged out backwards. I wound my window down in the hope of sharing a few choice words back at my persecutor but sadly, she didn't want to play. She ensured her electric window remained tightly sealed, stared straight ahead and, I suspect, turned up her classical music in case her nerves of steel needed calming.
One to her.
I dropped the kids and tootled off to work. I always kept an eye out for this 4x4 bully, but frankly, she was lost in the sea of sameness.....
I wonder when they planned those little streets around that little school if they ever envisaged that it would be inhabitated by such creatures?
