First of all you are nobody to tell me how many kilometers I can or cannot drive. This is a free country last time I checked. How much I drive is nobody’s business but mine.
Second of all I like driving on broad straight smooth roads. I do not even like roads with gentle curves. I don’t think much about slopes either.
My road, and let me be very clear on this, has to be straight, broad, smooth, no pedestrians, no cycles, no scooters, no motorbikes, no cars, no buses, no level crossings – therefore no trains, no stilt walkers, no elephants, no scaredy cats, no confused dogs, no buffaloes and no speed breakers. Straight empty roads is what I require.
But you chose to make this statement to me about how my car is three years old and I have driven only 8230 km. Because of that I decided I must drive, just to shut your damn mouths.
Now I am a person who prides herself on her elegance of mind and person. I walked elegantly to my car. I leaped elegantly backwards when seven dogs bolted out from under it.
This is important. Not driving around like a fool, means the dogs in the neighbourhood know that they have a roof over their heads for days at a time. The world does not have compassion. I have compassion.
Because of your stupid statement about years and kilometers, I began calculating how many km I drove on an average per day. Yes, your stupid statement made me actually do mental arithmetic and for other road users that is as dangerous as anyone talking on a cell phone while driving.
First of all I have never been strong in mathematics. It will be clear from what happened while I was calculating. I glanced at the odometer. It read 8230km.
Now reading an odometer is not easy. You have to take both eyes off the road. Said eyeballs have to read four tiny digits. It is very unpleasant when you look up and see the bumper of the car in front of you suddenly within bumping distance. Especially when your eyeballs pop right out of their sockets.
As it turned out Mother Car, yes she has a name duh, has always saved my sorry ass from an accident. She stopped just a hairsbreadth away from the other bumper. If the other driver was a bad one, he might roll backwards and hit my front bumper, which meant that I could get out and be the larger person and make snide comments on his poor driving skills. But the son-of-a-bitch moved off without incident.
I drove on and returned to my mental arithmetic. I told myself no looking at the odometer any more. Mustn’t take eyes off road.
That was a mistake. Soon as I told myself sternly not to look at the odometer, I just had to look at it. So I began snapping my eyes back and forth between odometer and the car in front of me. I found myself slowing down and the son-of-a-bitch behind me began tooting his horn. If you’re feeling horny go to a fucking brothel, don’t fucking toot at me.
I moved to the side and let him overtake, hoping I would see him being pulled out with pincers from the mangled remains of his car further down the road.
Then I began crunching numbers. 8234 kms in a total of 3 years, how many kms did that crunch to? I would have to divide the bigger number by 3. I knew that, but fuck knows why I broke my head dividing 8234 by 12.
Maybe because it was now 8236. That offended me, so I began dividing it in my head. Very difficult, a Swift wanted to overtake me, not only was the shit tooting at me, he was also flashing his headlights. Never could understand what is the fucking POINT of flashing headlights in broad daylight.
By the time I finished cursing him the odometer read 8238, so I got smart I would round it off to 8240. Divided by 3. 686 and 2/3. What’s WRONG with me? That’s 12! I was dividing it by 12! I want to divide it by THREE! Jeez how simple could it be? Okay now it is 8239! Quick quick quick! 8240 divided by 3. Divide or die you stupid cretin. 2746 and 2/3. Shit it’s still a big number. NOW divide the damn thing by twelve.
Now if you think a number like 2746 and two-thirds is an easy number to remember, well fuck you is all I can say. So I had to memorize it 2746 and two thirds divided by 12. Why 12? Because moron I have driven 2746 and two-thirds km per year.
Now I need to know how many km I drove per month. 2746 and screw the two-thirds, 2746 divided by 12. 228 and five-sixth. Ignore the fucking five-sixth. 228 kms per month that makes it.
So now hah, we are coming close to how much am I driving per day. 228 divided by 30. 7.6km per day. Not bad. There you are, I tooted the horn triumphantly.
I have calculated how much I drive per day. 7.6 is pretty damn good. I looked at the odometer. It was now 8250. I looked out of the window. This was not where I had to go. I had to take a turn off 10 km back. Now I would have to turn around. I have driven 10 km extra, so how does that add to my daily kilometrage?
You want to know what it adds? It adds rage.
It was at that time that I screamed a primal scream, a scooterist was startled, he swerved, his pillion rider slipped off. His scooter ploughed into Mother Car. Wtf! He wants to make a police complaint. The scooter driver said I screamed at him right in his ear for no reason at all. The cop asked in a disinterested tone of voice:
“Why did you scream in his ear?”
“You are not going to believe it,” I told the cop.
“Tell me, I have to make a report,” he said.
“I raised my arm to signal,” I said, “I was turning right and a bee flew right into my armpit and stung me.”
“It was an act of God,” the cop told the scooterist, “adjust.”
I could have told him exactly why I screamed but he would not understand. But you, you have to understand why I feel compelled to write this letter to you.
Do not in future express surprise or contempt that I have had this car for 3 years and 8 months and have driven only 8____, shit 8 months. I should have converted the years into days and then crunched the numbers.
Let’s see. 365 days in a year, leap year 366…
No.
It ends here.
Good day.
