Tuesday, February 27, 2007


I like driving. I could quite happily drive through the countryside for hours just feeling the road beneath my wheels; I get a feeling of space and freedom, which is rarely found in London, and could only be topped by having a horse to get about on.
But I don't like driving in London so much.
When I was learning to drive I was told "Remember that every driver in front of you is an idiot" to which I added "And every driver behind you is a copper". That motto has put me in good stead for coping with the ar*eholes that are allowed to get in a couple of tonnes of metal and aim it at people/street furniture/me.
In over fifteen years of driving, I've only been involved in three accidents, and none of them were my fault. The first was when one twunt decided to stop to turn on a main road, indicated, then changed his mind, leaving me with just too little time to swerve and the red nose on the front of my car got broken, but he tried to make out that the damage to his car (which did not tally with the damage on mine) was my fault. It was an insurance scam, and he got told off by the police.
The second was when I was reversing into a space, and after checking that there was nothing coming in front and the traffic behind me had stopped, started to reverse and heard a loud screech of brakes and metal. A tw@ of a sales rep had been going too fast, caught a tiny spot on my bumper and managed to scrape a lovely gouge out of his paintwork the whole length of his car. Oh, how the chaps at my insurance company laughed at him when I described what had happened...
But the last was the worst. I stopped at a red light (as one does) and the wan*er behind me didn't. I ended up with a whiplash injury*, bent exhaust and squished bumper, but the wan*er's brand new Rover, was well and truly over.
All these incidents and more, have hardened my soul to giving out any sympathy for stupid, incompetent road users, and I admit there have been a couple of occasions when I've felt like getting out of my car and beating them over the head with a lump hammer, but being the nice, well-mannered girl I am, I have not done so.
And anyhoo, I have found a better way to teach them a lesson.
I curse them.
It started off with when I got cut up by some tosser in a VW, and I muttered under my breath "I hope you get a flat tyre at a really inopportune time, you git". It made me feel better and no damage was done, and so I happily 'cursed' other prats with incantations such as "May your car overheat when you're running late" and "I pray your fan belt falls off when you're desperate to catch a flight". I would smile to myself whilst muttering, and after a few deep breaths would feel calmer within seconds.
Until the day I discovered the extent of my 'powers'.
I was happily pootling along an A road, which according to the road signs was about to narrow to one lane, when a tit in a BMW came hurtling up behind me. At the very last second went to overtake me, causing me to take evasive action and slam my brakes on which didn't do my neck or my temper a lot of good.
"I hope your fuc*ing exhaust pipe falls off, you c***!" I yelled at him.

And lo and behold, right there and then in front of me, it did, with a great deal of noise and sparks.

I admit I chuckled smugly to myself as I passed him stuck in the rain on the hard shoulder, but I've kept my 'curses' to situations that seriously merit them since then.
If only I could learn to use my powers for good.

*Still hurts.