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A true story
about a taxi in traffic (warning - hard-core stuff)
This morning, yours
truly, decided to sneak in a pinch of top-secret and highly professional
canoe training at Emmerentia dam, before the first farts of sparrows could
escape their imprisoning sphincters, and even before the glories-of-mornings
of most non-gay South African men could rise to view the possible prospects
of 'before work' swims.
Yep, I was up and onto that little patch of water before sunrise, tearing
around it at record-breaking pace, sneaking in a wee bit of pre-Duzi training,
in order to wrestle the crown away from the well slow and soft Martin
Dreyer (present Duzi champion, for those of you not in the intellectual
canoe mix) next time around. Anyway, the details of my incredible canoe
talent are not up for discussion here, but rather what happened on my
drive home after the session, in rush hour traffic, and in particular,
on Jan Smuts Avenue near to the Old Parktonian sports club around 8am.
I was happily chilling in my car, cruising along at about 60kph, in pretty
much bumper-to-bumper traffic, with nobody going anywhere any faster -
it was simply not an option. Well, not an option for anyone with a brain,
with an ounce of logic within their crania, with a drop of sense inside
the membranes of their cerebral hemispheres. You'd think that a creature
without a brain would equate to a fly or less, a category that includes
mosquitoes, stones, anvils and ... taxi drivers. Yep, enter Sipho "I'm
a dickhead without a brain cell" Nshlovo, driver of a Toyota Hi-Ace
- 4 wheels, 1 brake pad, no lights, half a steering wheel, about 30 people
inside and 3 masking-taped windows. Yep, standard issue for a South African
taxi driver.
He had more than likely participated in the demonstration march last month
with hundreds of other taxi driver idiots protesting about having had
their 'vehicles' impounded for not being roadworthy. The rocket-scientists
couldn't understand what wasn't roadworthy about a taxi with a bobejaan
spanner for a steering wheel, or one without brakes (they reckon a handbrake
is just as good as the foot brake pedal). Anyway, my mate Sipho decided
things weren't flowing fast enough for him so started weaving in and out
of the traffic, arm hanging out of his window like a baboon's tail hanging
from its ringpiece (I'm certain his armpit smelt like a baboon's ringpiece
as well; he was sweating like Bruce Fordyce's crack after 90km's on the
up run of the Comrades).
I heard this aeronautical engineer-like taxi driver coming from about
5 cars back, because everyone was hooting and slamming on brakes to avoid
the accident that he was trying his damndest to cause. After he narrowly
missed the back of my canoe as he swerved in behind me, I made a stubborn
little vow that he DEFINITELY wouldn't be cutting in front of me like
that, and so began the fun and games. The bum-wart first tried the standard
tactic of intimidation, just gradually cutting me off in the typical "you'd
better slow down and let me in, or I'll crash into you" method. Well,
I used the typical "Fack you, faeces-brain" tactic, with one
hand on the hooter, the other pointing straight at him, with my foot firmly
on the accelerator, until he backed down like Mike Catt had done in 1995
when Jonah Lomu ran straight over him. This had a snowball effect, which
had me chuckling the whole way back to my humble abode. Syphilis-face
then decided to put all his well acquired driving skill to the test, and
adopted the smartest technique of them all, the "Eish, I weel ovah-take
on the wrong side" method, one that sadly has caused numerous accidents
in the past, including the untimely death of one of our awesome mates,
Mike Short, a year ago.
This made old Maccatini madder than a spitting cobra with a red hot cactus
lodged up its rectum. No skin off the facking taxi drivers nose, he just
accelerated more, and tried to cut in front of the double-cab in front
of me, this after he had hooted at me and showed me a middle finger accompanied
with a few swearwords, something that made me want to beat him harder
than Campbell hit the gay boy who stabbed him repeatedly with a pen all
those years ago!
Well, the fella in front of me had obviously also been observing the proceedings,
and likewise refused to let Sipho Dickdribble Nshlovo in, so the acceleration
by the monkey continued, while he tried his hardest to outstare the double-cab
driver. Sadly for the nuclear physicist, the emergency lane was shortly
going to end, with a solid stone pavement to mark its ending. More sadly
for him was the fact that he and his 30-odd passengers were all trying
their damndest to "intimidate by staring" myself and the double-cab
man, instead of watching the road ahead (something that most brain-owners
do when driving).
I saw it coming, and was smiling my full-tusk smile even before they hit!!
Anal-bum-wart hit that pavement at about 70kph, 31 passengers bumped their
heads on the roof of the Hi-Ace in poetic unison, adding an extra 31 dents
to the already-facked minibus, and the two front wheels were ripped off
the chassis as the bus slid to a delightful halt.
Thankfully no passengers were hurt, which made it the most fantastic thing
to witness. Sadly though, Sipho, arm still hanging out of the window,
was also unscathed. However, his car was more facked than that prostitute
at PE harbour named Deloris, and his mood was somewhat down-trodden. I
hooted and made sure he got the full-frontal of my biggest-ever super
smile, as did the driver of the double-cab, and then to my absolute joy,
I looked in my mirror to see every driver behind me doing exactly the
same!
The brain-cell-lacker had received his well-earned treatment! I was happier
than Hudders when he passed his board, or at least as happy!! So folks,
what a peachy morning it has been so far. The sun is shining, it's Friday,
I've done my training, Long Tom Roodt is back in the country, there will
be a lot of thirst quenched this weekend, and Sipho Faeces-face Nshlovo
is one mini-bus short of a taxi! Now that is justice....
Author unknown
(Thanks Viviennen)
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