ROAD RAGE (15.10.2008)
For the last couple of nights I’ve slept like an absolute log – been dead to the world when the alarm went off in the morning (at about 6:50). It’s been great.
So this morning, I dragged myself out of bed, had the traditional wiz and headed out to meet the day. I turned on the TV and air-conditioner and went to get some Cornies for brekky. I wasn’t surprised to see that the milk was four days beyond the use-by date, which is getting a bit touch and go, so I opted for toast and peanut butter instead (the Kraft smooth kind).
I ate it, watched the news, had a shower, then watched the Pussycat Dolls on Sunrise singing about wanting boobies when they grow up, and then headed off for work.
I got to the garage and found my car bonnet up and recalled I needed some quick maintenance before I took off. For years now, when the weather starts getting real hot, my accelerator cable starts to seize up and stay down – revving the bejesus outta the motor whenever I stop. Or otherwise sending me tearing along at the same speed even after the foot is removed from the accelerator pedal. To remedy this situation, just takes a deft flick of the toe on the pedal and she cuts strait back – but it makes for some fancy footwork between accelerator and brake pedals as you slow down, and becomes annoying.
So for a semi-permanent fix, I spray all the carbi linkages and cable connections with WD40. This usually works for a few months – and it was this trick that I had to do this morning (while the engine was still cold).
This of course sent me running a little late for work, but that’s cool too – we work on flexi time.
So three quarters the way to work, I got stuck on poll position at the lights on the Stuart Highway and Mitchell street, across from the Top End Hotel. I was just sitting, looking down Mitchell street and grooving to a bit of Chilli Peppers ‘Scar Tissue’ ….’young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra….’, when I noticed a young aboriginal chippie moving into the centre of the intersection. This is not so unusual but for the fact that she had no top on, and her ample bosom was bouncing hither and thither! She was quite an attractive girl of about twenty-six years I would speculate, and she sported a rack in the general range of a 12C – give or take a cup-size. She was apparently arguing with her ‘Boyfriend’ – a tattoo riddled white fella of about 46 years, who stood on the side of the road in just a pair of black jeans, but with her shirt in his hands.
She yelled something to the inked-up fella and commenced to take off her pants and swing them over her head, helicopter style.
As the lights changed, she was standing pretty much mid-intersection, in a pair of skewed black panties and nothing else – however, they looked pretty ripe for removal in the near future as well.
I drove on with a slightly incredulous grin and a small headshake and simply thought – ‘Only in Darwin…..’