Friday, July 16, 2010

For the Corsa Lady

Last night a queue at some traffic lights was just long enough to block the clear left branch down which I wished to scoot. The Vauxhall Corsa in front noticed this and obligingly inched, squeezed and squoze forward so that I could scrinch, scrunch and scronch past and away. As I passed, the Corsa Lady gave me a big smiley wave, which I returned. Ah me, it was a warm human moment.

I hate the way that driving brings out the worst of us – mostly, I suspect, because of fear. Saintly and rare indeed is the person who is as good-natured inside her car as she is outside of it. Amen.

12 comments:

sean said...

How do you know she is good natured outside of the car? do you know the lady, does she know you?

She could be a black widow looking for her next meal? The Corsa could be a front so you take pity on her.

But she is probably Spanish and just having a good week.

Willard said...

It shows how bad things have become when we notice simple kindnesses like this. I thanked a stranger the other day and she said 'my pleasure'. I was shocked. Nobody says 'my pleasure' these days. In a few years time, it might make headline news when the norm is road rage, armed assault and much worse.

Brit said...

Well aren't you two just a couple of rays of sunshine?

Sean said...

No need for sarcasm brit, its a legitimate question. I bet she works at Chief trading post? Could she be a Russian Spy. I think its one of the two, probably both.

worm said...

driving makes us all a bit corsa

Brit said...

Ouch, worm.

Brit said...

Ouchworm, ouchworm, measuring the marigold...

Willard said...

There was every reason for your sarcasm, Brit. This moment with the lady in the Corsa clearly affected you and it was wrong of me to downplay it. There's a fine tradition of poets fantasising over forbidden fruit and I wouldn't like to stand in the way of what was a perfectly Enderby moment.

malty said...

In the borders a good number of lady drivers are extremely courteous, four feet ten tall, ninety five years old and wear hats, that's how we can tell that someone is driving the car. An equally good number are the other sort, twentyish, drive Freelanders and have a nervous affliction that causes them to raise their hands with one finger extended.
I find that the best defence is to blow 'em a kiss or give a big broad smile or run the twerps off the road.
The burdz driving habits are however angelic compared with the average male, many of whom will kill for one car place on the road. I baulk at blowing kisses at that lot.
Some ladies of my acquaintance require empty airfields to enable them to park the car.

Sean said...

"four feet ten tall, ninety five years old and wear hats"...and smoke pipes.

David said...

In my small, liberal college town, our problem is that drivers are too nice. They stop unpredictably when they have the right of way.

For example, there's an intersection I usually cross twice a day, where the smaller street I'm on crosses a larger street. I have stop signs at the intersection, the larger street doesn't. And yet, on a regular basis, if I'm stopped at the intersection, a driver on the larger street will stop to let me go. Just yesterday, I was three cars behind someone on a different street that has a left hand bend. The car at the front of traffic stopped in the middle of the road to let someone coming the other way turn. Yikes.

ghostofelberry said...

Willard old chap, you´ll be heartened to know i just taught a group of Bosche to say "could I have" instead of "can I have" as the marginally more polite form, and to answer "I´d be delighted" and "it would be my pleasure" rather than just "yeah".