The Phantom Driver

How many times have you been spooked by the vehicle in front of you, because you can't see the back of the head of the driver? Worse, the vehicle is crawling at a snail's pace in the wee hours of the night. You wonder,"Damn, is this the supposed driverless white car that cruises on expressways at night just to cause you to crash?". You heard of that urban legend, haven't you? As you start to freak out and goose bumps start popping out even at the thickest part of your skin, you step on the gas to overtake the phantom driver, but lo and behold, as you pass the vehicle, it's just your neighbourhood aunty in the front seat, taking her own sweet time.

I say, women can't drive. My god! Women drivers - once they're on the road, all the basic rules of driving are thrown out of the window. Signalling? No way I'm gonna take my hands off the wheel to flick that sign on, those behind me ought to watch where I'M going. Blind spot? What's that?! I'm not blind I can see clearly thank you very much, those behind me ought to watch where I'M going. Speed limit of 90? Well, I need a diversity factor of 20kph, so 70's just about right for me. Those in a hurry can overtake me from the left where's there's plenty of space, those vans are so slow. Don't horn or flash me when I keep stepping on the brakes, the rule of thumb is 5 car lengths in front ok? Anyway, those behind me ought to watch where I'M going.

And don't get yours truly started on women pedestrians. Damn, their roads, their rules...

How about this? Just the other day, as I was going up the ramp in the multi-storey carpark of my office, keeping to my own lane, this lady driver swerves down the ramp, the same one that I'm on but in the opposite direction, and half her car is in my lane. I was sure it was gonna be a head on collision. I jammed, she jammed. I looked out straight into her face, give her this oft-used disgusted look and shake my head. Oh she gets pissed, starts gesturing wildly with her flabby arms, unwinds her window and shouts,"what you shaking your head for?!"

I reply,"You drive like a woman, man!" To which I get an angrier reaction,"Well, I AM a woman WAT!!!". Calmly, bent on irritating the crap out of her,"Oh, I'm sorry, I couldn't tell, you sure don't act like one." The next day, I notice a new scratch on the side of my car. Hey, I'm not accusing her or anything, just describing the sequence of events. Bitch.

On the road everyday, I get to meet several such phantom drivers. How they got their licences in the first place, I would never know. But the way they drive, there might as well be a real phantom driver manning the wheels. At least my goose bumps would not have gone to an anti-climatic waste.

redcocoon