Nightrider
At 5am, driving a car that doesn't belong to me, reality has never seemed closer.
A simple driving operation has turned into a careful pilgrimmage - if I crash the car, fall asleep, get lost or find a passenger has croaked, I'm screwed. And yet, we're all filled with a certain joyous camaraderie.
The D is in the front seat, rather worryingly passed out while The R and Ir try to comfort a rather green-looking Mags in the back. The dark is quiet and cool, the asphalt glows like a friend.
We cut corners and make illegal turns more than a couple of times, fuelled by The R laughingly navigating over the street directory at the back. Once, we swerve dangerously over a chevron marking in the middle of two highways. And in the middle of the turn off from the highway, Ir asks Mags if she needs to stop.
"Is it okay?" Mags replies shakily, through what sounds like a mouthful of marbles. I pull over quickly, trying to find the hazard lights and randomly jabbing at buttons with my forefinger.
Because I am just that awesome a driver, I manage the curb. The R slides out like a ninja and Mags simply folds over at the waist and heaves violently.
I can hear her coughing puke onto the tarmac, just missing the car door. We hover around her worriedly, The R patting her back like a father and analysing the reversely peristalted matter (Rice! And is that chicken you had a while back?!) while Ir soothes her in her most jovial way: "Don't worry! We've all had this same problem before. And we're probably going to have it around you next time."
Mags recovers sufficiently to giggle and reassured I ask everyone to get back in the car for a short while. "I'm going to drive up front and pull into the side lane so we don't get hit from behind," I say, eyeing the headlights that come flashing swiftly out of the dark at our rear. "You can walk around a bit there and get some fresh air."
The R and Ir pipe up suddenly. "Much respect! You've had plenty to drink but you can still hold your own."
"Speak for youself," I grin. "I saw you both knocking back quite a few but you sound completely alert."
We pull over again about a hundred metres ahead and this time they all get out of the car, except for The D, whom I have to check is still breathing. I roll the windows down and wait for them to shuffle about in the darkness when Ir suddenly gives a squeal of laughter. "Guess what! You were driving with the street directory on the boot outside! The R put it there when he got out the first time!"
Everyone is chuckling by now and as a blast of cool air streams in from the open window, I throw my head back and laugh like a little girl, feeling my hair swim at my neck. Suddenly, in the most surreal of places, it occurs to me.
I'm finally starting to feel like me.
A simple driving operation has turned into a careful pilgrimmage - if I crash the car, fall asleep, get lost or find a passenger has croaked, I'm screwed. And yet, we're all filled with a certain joyous camaraderie.
The D is in the front seat, rather worryingly passed out while The R and Ir try to comfort a rather green-looking Mags in the back. The dark is quiet and cool, the asphalt glows like a friend.
We cut corners and make illegal turns more than a couple of times, fuelled by The R laughingly navigating over the street directory at the back. Once, we swerve dangerously over a chevron marking in the middle of two highways. And in the middle of the turn off from the highway, Ir asks Mags if she needs to stop.
"Is it okay?" Mags replies shakily, through what sounds like a mouthful of marbles. I pull over quickly, trying to find the hazard lights and randomly jabbing at buttons with my forefinger.
Because I am just that awesome a driver, I manage the curb. The R slides out like a ninja and Mags simply folds over at the waist and heaves violently.
I can hear her coughing puke onto the tarmac, just missing the car door. We hover around her worriedly, The R patting her back like a father and analysing the reversely peristalted matter (Rice! And is that chicken you had a while back?!) while Ir soothes her in her most jovial way: "Don't worry! We've all had this same problem before. And we're probably going to have it around you next time."
Mags recovers sufficiently to giggle and reassured I ask everyone to get back in the car for a short while. "I'm going to drive up front and pull into the side lane so we don't get hit from behind," I say, eyeing the headlights that come flashing swiftly out of the dark at our rear. "You can walk around a bit there and get some fresh air."
The R and Ir pipe up suddenly. "Much respect! You've had plenty to drink but you can still hold your own."
"Speak for youself," I grin. "I saw you both knocking back quite a few but you sound completely alert."
We pull over again about a hundred metres ahead and this time they all get out of the car, except for The D, whom I have to check is still breathing. I roll the windows down and wait for them to shuffle about in the darkness when Ir suddenly gives a squeal of laughter. "Guess what! You were driving with the street directory on the boot outside! The R put it there when he got out the first time!"
Everyone is chuckling by now and as a blast of cool air streams in from the open window, I throw my head back and laugh like a little girl, feeling my hair swim at my neck. Suddenly, in the most surreal of places, it occurs to me.
I'm finally starting to feel like me.
She said, she said at 10:12 pm
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