Scaly Bush-watchers

Once upon a long time ago, Pa had a permanent iron-foot on the speeding side of things. I’m not sure if he got scared (with ageing) or why exactly he doesn’t drive so madly fast anymore. Maybe the real reason is that a bakkie can only go so fast. Maybe also the presence of rockety-rickety dips, potholes, meerkat-manors with entrances dead centre in dirt roads, three-four meter long crevasses, cracks and ditches have grooved itself firmly into the road that leads to the farm too. Making it feel as if one is trailing high on the edge of some treacherous and bottomless Nepalese-cliffs.

Reminds of the time Ma and I drove to town to get something and on our return we noticed this fat-bellied meerkat lying on its back, next to a cattle-grid. Not sunbathing unfortunately... We knew it could only have been our doing as it must have jumped out of the grid the moment we drove over it earlier on. Call me cruel and other things, but apart from the tragedy of it, it reminded me of those very funny Tom & Jerry clips.

Amongst Dad’s post this week, was an official notification that a vehicle in his name, e-rt... had been speeding. One that is in Cape Town for which I pay a monthly installment to Dad as it still is registered on his name.

Well, apart from nearly having a fit, he looked at the attached photo and saw it wasn’t me behind the steering wheel. It was the mutt called my sister who must have been flying to work instead of driving and collecting speed-points with MY car which someone will have to pay for. Not me!!

Quick explanation about why I drive her blue donkey and she my white boxy golf: Working in town she uses my car as it is economic on petrol-usage and as her car should have had new tekkies seven or eight months ago, I use it for the 6 km daily drive to work. If I was clever and not so generous as to give my new mountain bike to the ex-boyfriend in Scotland, it might have been even more economic to cycle 2 km’s across the river past the stables to work, but aye alas not...

It gave me such pleasure to watch how the mutt sort of deflated like a flat tire when Mom had the pleasure of informing her of the speeding offence.

Heh-heh...

I was well smitten, because madam had the cheek to pull a nasty joke on my fragile gullible self only last week. Told me without so much as blushing that I got a speed-ticket with her car – which was in truth only a reminder for her car license renewal. The low lice could have given me a heart-attack!

But the wicked can’t laugh too long... and calamity upon dire unbelief hit me two days ago. I managed to pick up an official looking envelope that had fallen onto our garden path and should have dumped the filthy scrap of dirt in the rubbish bin nearby. Instead I placed it on the kitchen counter where my sister would find it. Just contend with fermented grape juice, I sat back after dinner when the rat calmly told me that I got a fine while I drove her car. The schizophrenic witch enjoyed that, I tell you. And it happened at the same place she got her fine...

It is a darn Criminal Injustice to sit behind bushes and robbing innocent, normally law-abiding citizens of their honest and hard-earned money when they need a rush of air to wake up in the morning and get to work not half an hour late.

Well, now we’re equal and I daresay the thieving traffic department will be guaranteed a jolly party end of this year. The culpirt or bush-sitting cop must have slammed his greedy claws firmly into a hell of a lot pockets, of that I am absolutely sure. Including innocents such as these two sissies...