I don’t hate anybody! My Dad always said that I should never hate anybody. So I don’t.  Instead there are those I dislike intensely, there are some that I loathe with a passion, and then there are the odd few I abhor with zeal.

Mmm…strong words neatly packaged ? Yes, but I think a good way to describe the way I feel about those who conspire to kill me.

Every morning from 6.30 till 8.00 and again in the afternoon, I run the gauntlet, a particularly dangerous route that takes me from my home in Elma Park, via the school my girls attend in Buccleuch, to work in Randburg and then back again.

Why dangerous? Why do I call it the gauntlet? Well sit back, read on and I will illucidate you.

I leave home in the wee hours of the morning, a beautiful time, the birds are just beginning to stir and all that can be seen is a few die hard fitness fanatics walking, running and cycling, but, the edge of my comfort zone zooms closer and it is not long before I reach the chasm, and boldly I leap into a place where the angels fear to tread…The main road, the one that leads me to the highways and byways, the path I take every morning and evening, hyped up on coffee with my eyes darting from side to side.  No one escapes my intense scrutiny as I wait for the first, the first of many who will challenge my will to stay calm in the face of adversity.

I am not disappointed, there he is in his rattletrap with a brand of Laxative proudly advertised on the side of the coffin he shares with 15 others.  Rather prophetic that advertisement. He has pulled his wagon over in the middle of the intersection, blocking the path of any who may want to cross the road, and as the traffic streams past him, he leans his arm out of the window and pulls out straight into the path of my car!

Who needs laxatives, I drive in Gauteng!

Do you know that the hooter is the only part of my car that I have needed to replace regularly, every six months, it gets tired you see, because I being who I am cannot let any injustice pass without comment, and due to the fact that I travel with my children, in the traffic my hooter is my comment, and how I pound it depends on the severity of the crime being committed against me and the volume of expletives that I would so dearly like to allow to pour unstoppered from my mouth, BUT, I can’t, I am Mother, and so I hoot. TOOT TOOT!