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Driving Miss Vincy crazy

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I have had my driver’s licence for several years now and could navigate Vincyland with a degree of confidence. There are several observations that I have made in the years since I obtained my driver’s licence. Firstly, people seldom drive on their hand. I have had the joy of minding my own business on my side of the road, only to look up and see Mr Escudo coming toward me, halfway into my lane. Of course, I react by slowing down and waiting for the driver on the opposite side to correct him/herself and they usually do. I usually let them know how I feel by flashing them the worst cut eye I could muster, then it’s back to minding my own business on my side of the road. 

Another observation is that it is perfectly okay to have bad manners while driving. For instance, if I am at an intersection or a junction and there are cars flying past me, going in either direction, my instincts are to wait until there is a lull in the traffic or a large enough gap between vehicles before joining the throng, but apparently that isn’t the norm, or at least not for the good citizen, Ms Sprinter to the back of me.  In her considered opinion, my best bet would be to push my way into the traffic and hope that oncoming Mr Rav4 sees me early enough to slow down or stop, like interrupting a conversation. Further, the chance that he might not see me until he has T-boned my car is real, since many folks seem unable to tear themselves away from their cell phones long enough to consider road safety. I know they are called mobiles, but chatting and or texting while driving is a taking a joke too far.

Finally, I have noticed how über helpful (men)folks become when they spot me, a woman driver, behind the wheel. They take one look at me and decide that I need instructions on how to turn a corner, use a steering wheel, use a mirror. Just recently I had an encounter at a popular beach here where I was locked in, parking wise, and my only options were to execute a dozen attempts at turning in a very tight spot, or reverse way back to the main road. I had already decided to reverse, because who has time for executing all those turns? However, two gentlemen, of different age groups, proceeded to give me directions on how I could manoeuvre the car in that tight space. It hadn’t occurred to them that I would have my own ideas on how I was going to get out. The elder gentleman showed actual visible surprise when I politely told him that I was not going to turn, but that I intended to reverse all the way to the main road. There is a chance they were just being considerate, but there is also the chance that they saw woman driver and decided “damsel.”

Driving in Vincyland is a curious experience, to be sure.

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