So there’s a new car in the compound; A dark blue Mercedes C-230 compressor sport. It has a 16-valve aluminium, turbo-charged, 2.5 L, V6 engine of about 189 horse power, and goes 0-60mph in 8.2 seconds. Automatic transmission and a rear wheel drive. Crazy tinted lens too and a boot big enough for the mafioso activities (sleep with the fishes).
Hahaha! Deceived you that I know something about cars didn’t I?
Anyways the car is a beauty, completely electrically operated and I have an eye on it. My mother thinks it’s hers. My mother thinks every new car is hers. They could be, but my mother doesn’t drive. Not like she can’t oh… she just won’t. Considering how many years have passed between the last time her hands were on a wheel the know-how involved has probably receded somewhere behind the her first child-birth…
I digress. Anyway I approached my father on the matter. It is an open secret that I have no interest in driving. Frankly, I favour public transport. Love it actually. The BRTs especially. I was supposed to have learnt to drive during my IT. Not me. Much to the fear of my mother and the shame of my father I now have more of an idea of every available bus route. My exits from the house are probably followed by the certainty that this is the day I will not return.