We were driving down Smith Street the other day, the traffic was busy, there ware cars everywhere. As we neared Johnston Street, the traffic stopped. It was gridlock in both directions, momentarily, nobody was going anywhere, when a black Yaris made its move from a side street to my right. It was suddenly pushing through trying to squeeze in front of me, through the jumbled maze of cars blocking its way.
“Yeah, good onya sport,” I said out loud.
I looked over at the small, black hatchback, four faces, or what would be faces somewhere underneath the black material with eye slits, turned and looked at me in unison, like they were the Borg. It was like a car full of black ninjas turning their full power on me. I raised my hands in the air, as if to indicate I was saying, what are you doing? The faces stared at me, frozen in their glare. As the small hatchback lurched forward, the four heads turned in unison back to face in the direction the car was heading. She squeezed through with millimetres to spare on each front mudguard. I couldn’t help but being impressed with her driving skills, or is that her determination, or is that her pushiness? I don’t know, but I wished I’d had a camera. Of course, I did have a camera, I wished I’d thought to pick it up and capture the image.
The sight of them made me giggle. Michelangela, Donatella, Raelene and Leoni
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