This week, Jasmine comes to blows with an irate female driver to whom the idea of courtesy is a lost one.
I know that there is no place for courtesy in South African traffic rulebooks, but can it really be that hard to be polite? Chivalry may be exhaling its very last breath, but you can understand its demise when confronted by an aggressive, menopausal lady glaring at all and sundry while edging her Toyota Corolla forward.
I thought about this recently while stuck in traffic, trying to lug the mother between her numerous “old-girl” appointments. With nowhere really to move, I noticed a guy desperately trying to cross the string of cars whenever a gap in the oncoming lane presented itself, but to no avail. And of course, people seldom see the need to leave a space at crossings because bumper-to-bumper is much more fun when you can hear the conversation being conducted in the car ahead.
So, as I pulled level with this poor oke, I indicated that he, and the guy who had just stopped to my left, could proceed. Miss Priss, who as fate would have it, was perched behind the wheel of a Corolla finished in the yuckiest blue hue I’ve ever seen, began punching her hooter through the floorboards.
Well, really. I don’t see how one extra car in a row of vehicles moving at an average speed of 10 km/h could have a cataclysmic effect on one’s life. Besides, a change of scenery (albeit another boot) is always refreshing.
While this seems to be very much a female phenomenon, even I can’t see what kind of rush one could get from denying another access to what is essentially simply a piece of tar.
I recently got embroiled in a heated debate with one of my girlfriends while on a shoe-shopping mission. Upon seeing someone indicating his intention to join her lane, my good pal promptly sped up, muttering “He’s mad if he thinks he can just cut in front of me! Who does he think he is?”
I was calmly pointing out to her that it was only one car, going in the same direction, at roughly the same speed, when she just about had a baby mule (the pointy, kitten-heeled type), almost ramming us into a concrete barrier!
As far as she was concerned, we were in a hurry and this Mazda Etude-driving pondscum would only slow us down. Of course, there’s no point arguing with a deranged, shoe-loving female who could end your life with a flick of her wrist, so I politely backed out of the conversation by pointing out the ’80s-inspired boldly worn by the lady driving alongside us. That sparked a giggling fit – the perfect way to end the uproar.
Girls are strange that way, but at least I know not to expect any sympathy from them when I accidentally find myself in the wrong lane while approaching an off-ramp…
Original article from Car