Riding the Slipstream

I know that Awards Season is over, but I have one final award I would like to dish out. The nominees in this particular category, Best Performance by An Asshole in Suburban Traffic, are numerous, but the young estate agent driving the blue Citi Golf in Rosebank this morning, is surely in a class of his own. (Dude, don’t make me post your car’s registration number and the name of your company on my blog, because I will!). None of the other nominees I encountered today comes close. He earned it by turning on his hazard (emergency) lights and suddenly stopping for a red light… which was nowhere in sight, on a suburban road in peak-hour traffic. Now that is what I call defensive driving at its absolute finest! Why wait until you see a red light. If can imagine one coming up, stop right where you are! The asswipe then got out of his car, opened the boot, and proceeded to offload “For Sale” signs onto the pavement. I was so moved by this nifty twist in the plot, I nearly cried. What an automotive magic wand hazard lights are? Their use overrides all existing traffic rules and permits you to do as you please. And if by chance you are confronted by another motorist, all you have to do is say the corresponding magic words, “Did you NOT see my emergency/hazard lights flashing?” This mind-blowing act of driving ingenuity got him nominated by the driver of the 4X4 behind him. I saw his middle finger go up as he came to a screeching halt mere centimetres from the Citi Golf’s rear bumper. The rear end of a Citi Golf would make a brilliant hood ornament on a 4X4, don’t you agree? The other drivers and I, who were also on the much-coveted selection committee, whole heartedly agreed, and without a moment hesitation declared him the undisputed winner. Middle fingers went up in the air like faster than you could ask, “Who wants to be a millionaire?” Completely overwhelmed by the nomination, and in a hurry to accept the award, his car stalled and traffic backed up fast. Within minutes it seemed like we were in Pamplona at the start of the running of the bulls. A few other motorists popped their heads out of their car windows and applauded him loudly while pressing down on their hooters. I have yet to hear so many profanities permeate the morning air. He was definitely a favourite with the crowd. We left it up to the traffic officer (for once there was one in the actual vicinity) to hand over the award. Judging by the look on his face and the hand gestures, he was completely overwhelmed. Go on, young sir… assume the position and blow me, while I bask in the glory of your driving genius.