Okay disregard the title. You most definitely should not go on a drive with me and I’ll tell you why. Going on a drive with me is akin to fulfilling your death wish, which would then lead me to debate Euthanasia with you. A topic that is as dreary as the Bold and Beautiful and as deranged as a film starring Salman Khan.
I tend to take several liberties when I’m behind the wheel; I nip in and out of lanes, accelerate around corners (even power-slide, because you cannot drift in front wheel drive cars). I enjoy tailgating to the extent the driver in front of me wishes that they had never passed their driving examination and had instead persisted with public transport. In my mind, this logic transpires into the fact that I am doing society a favour by promoting the use of public transport in order to protect the environment.
Anyway, I also have a tendency to parody race-car drivers at Traffic Lights, for when they go green; I really do “step on the gas,” and when someone is in my way, I really ought to be forgiven for singing “Move B**ch, get out the way…” by Ludacris.
Nevertheless, what I will say, for all my erratic driving skills, I don’t get into accidents, I don’t get caught by radars and I most certainly don’t overdo the damage to my engine. Also, I wear my seatbelt all the time, even if I’m just pulling out of the drive way, momentarily. Furthermore, I also indicate all… the… time. And, I’m polite enough to use my hazard lights to indicate my regret at causing another driver inconvenience.
So, while I do believe you ought never to go on a drive with me, I do vehemently suggest that, on the off chance you do get into the passenger seat, wear a blind fold, chew some gum and do not back-seat drive.
Right, I’ve got an errand to run. Time to go find my car-keys.
Drive Safe. Peace.