Saturday, 7 November 2015

From behind the wheel

I just hate fellow drivers. Specially those stinky ones who think that it's their moral right to cut you when your speedo reads over 60. Kilometers per hour, I mean. I know, I could have written 60kph, or 60km/h, but why not waste words for a change? Coming back to fellow drivers, every time I get onto the road, I wonder who created them. And yes, I have also come to the conclusion that pondering over the issue is a purely fruitless waste of time. 
Ever been on Mumbai roads within a 20 meter radius of a Mahindra Scorpio? Here are a few things guaranteed. It will mostly be white. It will be a base variant, as the driver wants the car only for its monstrous proportions. It will most certainly have something written in saffron on it. I won't get into any further specifics as I shall surely be killed if I do. I have seen people coming in harm's way through very inconspicuous blog posts. And so, hail freedom of speech. 
Either way, these above described cars look ugly, just like their Ray-Ban wearing, betel chewing chaps behind their wheels. Now do I actually have to tell you that it is a pain to drive next to them? The blokes drive like the road belongs to them, and I am fully confident that if you go to confront them, they will run you over, and even escape charges for murdering you because..... because..... because..... as always, you don't know who their father is. That comes from the dialogue from Delhi folks... "तू जानता नहीं की मेरा बाप कौन है? (Tu jaanta nahi mera baap kaun hai?)", which means "You don't know who my father is?", which in turn means that the chap who asked you the question during the conflict(Which most likely was caused by the bloke) knows some corrupt little politician who is nowhere related to his father, and hence wants to warn you of potentially dire consequences, should you chose to take the argument any further. 
I just don't understand the logic of this "Fatherly" question. Why would anyone ask you if you know his father? 
No buddy, I don't know your father. Could you please get your pissy little face out of my bloody sight?
The sad part is that the Scorpio driver never asks you this futile question. He has surpassed the Delhi bugger in terms of intelligence on this front. You do though, get to know who this fellow's father or godfather is after you are done being pulverized. But then again, this piece of information is as useful to you as a visiting card of a Datsun salesman when you drive a BMW. And no, I don't drive a BMW... Not right now at least.  
So all is hunky dory and the lord is supposed to be on the last day of creating the world, since tomorrow is a Sunday. Amazing! That's one more thing I hate. Sundays. What dreadful time of the week. Saturday is over. Monday morning blues are less than 24 hours away and the day zips by like a glass of fresh lemonade. Anyone seen those sensitive ladies who sip on their lemonades through a straw? Why, poor women? What has a shot of Vitamin C ever done to you? Besides, these ladies call everything "tacky". What a set of pretentious little wusses!
And tonight's the night. No, the cute lady isn't coming over. Alas. But Saturday nights are when you feel that you can conquer the world! Okay, you end up watching 5 movies in a row, and reach halfway through a book if it's funny. But the feeling of empowerment, specially after having driven your car for quite a bit is uplifting at the very least. 
Another thing about driving cars that I just noticed today is this. We generally shift up to the next gear when the engine runs at about 2000-3000RPM. For a change, just hold onto that gear a while longer. Your perceptions about your car are most likely to change. But that again is when you factor in quite a bit of things. For starters, you need to nail the right pedal to see anything awe inspiring. Secondly, you need to have a clean patch of tarmac ahead of you. It is best if you don't have fellow passengers in the car, specially not your mother; unless of course your mom is a petrolhead.
Mind you, I am still discovering how decent a driver can be, Becoming good, in all honesty, seems a long way ahead. Why is it that I can only thing about cars or women? Cars and women together are fine as long as the lady is not using her pretty smile to lure you into her showroom. 

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