Wednesday, 31 August 2011

the journey home

Many people who drive home from work every-day and get stuck in traffic will be able to relate to this post.

At around 20 past 5 every weekday, after grinning as I zoom down the dual carriageway, singing the great escape, my mood is ruined as I hit the inevitable rush hour traffic which sees me slowly edging towards a roundabout in my bid to get home.

In the month and a bit I have been doing this I have started to notice certain people around me who also do the same journey from Monday to Friday.

There is the girl in the red car who chews chewing gum, the grumpy faced businessman who despite having a very nice car, seems unable to drive and often gets too excited by gaps in front of him, speeds up too quickly, and then has to brake suddenly.  There is the 30-odd year old man, in the blue car who always smokes and looks very content to just sit in traffic.

And finally, there is a person I hope I never encounter again in rush hour traffic. . . . the man in the silver car. Here is why. . .

Last Friday I was sitting in the car waiting patiently for the traffic to move, when Radio 1 played a song which I like a-lot. So I decided to sing along. But not just sing, oh no dear readers, I was performing - Loudly and dramatically .

Just as I was half way through belting out the first chorus I turned my head to see man in silver car sitting staring at me with his mouth wide open, clearly shocked and surprised by my larger-than-life performance.

Immediately I stopped singing and tried to retain my dignity. I noticed that in his shock, silver car man had missed a massive 2 car space in front of him and thankfully he moved forward. However I then moved forward too and it was a dance, I would get away from this man who I had just completely embarrassed myself in front of then he would be next to me again. It was very upsetting! So finally I got round the round-about and we sped away from each other.

But still the fear remains that he will return and I will be once again singing. . .

Much Love

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