Scared behind the wheel
Sep. 9th, 2013 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janestarzAfter sleeping in (recuperating) and my weekly groceries, I sat down for some homework and raced towards Rotterdam for a cup of coffee at my dad's. I had planned a meeting with Tim and would pick him up at a Rotterdam train station right in the middle of traffic hour. Instead of lining up with the rest of the Netherlands in my traffic-jam-of-choice, I decided to go to Rotterdam early and have a cup of coffee at my dad's place.
The unexpected drop-in at my dad's was much appreciated and very nice, but soon enough I had to wave off and go pick up Tim. We sat down at a nearby McDonalds (really, I'm dieting...) for our dinner and the bad-news-talk preparations. Those things are never fun to do, but that's the curse of being an organiser. It takes a lot of time, gasoline and energy to run a group.
After our discussion I dropped Tim off at the same train station I picked him up at, and continued on home. The sporadic rain I'd had on the way north had increased to a steady downpour and visibility was down. I thought I'd had bad eyesight on the way home from dancing last night, but tonight I was, for the very first time, actually afraid behind the wheel*.
I set my wipers to their maximum speed and decreased my driving speed to 100 kph, hoping it was slow enough. I was torn between the two curses: too much illumination only emphasized the enourmous amount of water pouring down from the heavens, and when the street lamps disappeared altogether I was cursing the darkness.
For the second time that evening, I had to think of Gûrron, and I pulled over at a Texaco parking lot, locking my doors and spending fifteen minutes on the phone. By the time we ended our phonecall, I continued at a steady pace, taking care to keep my eyes on the road. I arrived home safely, but it took a lot more time than it normally would.
It will be a long, dark winter, before summer streets are back.
-----
*) Of course, not counting those heart-grabbing moments when you see a taxi driver reading a book on the highway, or someone merging lanes in a very stupid way. Those are just scary moments where you hope oh so fervently that it will all end well.
Also not counting the times I was in Germany with my dad driving 200+ kph, because technically speaking he was behind the wheel since he was driving like a maniac and I was just 15 and reading a book.
The unexpected drop-in at my dad's was much appreciated and very nice, but soon enough I had to wave off and go pick up Tim. We sat down at a nearby McDonalds (really, I'm dieting...) for our dinner and the bad-news-talk preparations. Those things are never fun to do, but that's the curse of being an organiser. It takes a lot of time, gasoline and energy to run a group.
After our discussion I dropped Tim off at the same train station I picked him up at, and continued on home. The sporadic rain I'd had on the way north had increased to a steady downpour and visibility was down. I thought I'd had bad eyesight on the way home from dancing last night, but tonight I was, for the very first time, actually afraid behind the wheel*.
I set my wipers to their maximum speed and decreased my driving speed to 100 kph, hoping it was slow enough. I was torn between the two curses: too much illumination only emphasized the enourmous amount of water pouring down from the heavens, and when the street lamps disappeared altogether I was cursing the darkness.
For the second time that evening, I had to think of Gûrron, and I pulled over at a Texaco parking lot, locking my doors and spending fifteen minutes on the phone. By the time we ended our phonecall, I continued at a steady pace, taking care to keep my eyes on the road. I arrived home safely, but it took a lot more time than it normally would.
It will be a long, dark winter, before summer streets are back.
-----
*) Of course, not counting those heart-grabbing moments when you see a taxi driver reading a book on the highway, or someone merging lanes in a very stupid way. Those are just scary moments where you hope oh so fervently that it will all end well.
Also not counting the times I was in Germany with my dad driving 200+ kph, because technically speaking he was behind the wheel since he was driving like a maniac and I was just 15 and reading a book.
