Ons passasiers

Forget everything you have ever heard about backseat drivers.  Meet the passenger from hell….my mother.

The darling gave up driving in her sixty’s when she recognized that she now lacked the necessary reflexes for driving in South African cities crawling with taxi’s, bought licenses and other deeply aggressive fellow drivers.

Now she occupies the passenger seat.  One hand squeezing my upper leg in silent warning when we approach a stop street.  Nails digging in when she judges my speed too fast.

But it’s when she pulls in her breath sharply for perceived danger that I really lose it.

“Maaaaaa.  You will cause an accident when you do that”

No apology – only a reproachful stare!! 

Really??   Really????

Natuurlik toe my eersteling oud genoeg was vir bestuurrlesse en ek die hulpelose slagoffer in die passasiersitplek was, het ek my vas voorgeneem om nie in ouma te verander nie.

Behalwe natuurlik as hy op ‘n stopstraat afjaag onder die wanindruk dat mens ‘n kar binne 30 cm tot stilstand kan bring.

Of ‘n kar verbysteek terwyl aankomende verkeer teen spoed op ons afjaag.

Dan kan ek mos ’n kind doodkyk as hy vir my vertel:  “Maaa, ma sal maak dat ek ‘n ongeluk veroorsaak”

Kinders waardeer nie waardeur mens vir hulle moet gaan nie.

Mens prober jou bes

En dan het hulle geen waardering daarvoor nie.

En as ek my hart by my ma will gaan uitpraat vind sy dit amusant!!!!!