Driving to work

It seems I have been extremely lax in posting over the last few weeks. In order to address this, I present a rant about the man with whom I car share. This rant originally appeared on the Jammie Dodger Bored Board. Enjoy:

I car-share with one of my workmates a few days a week. His driving is making me insane. He drives at 30 in 40 zones and 50 in 70 zones. He brakes waaaaaaaaaay too early at junctions, so we crawl up to them, he slows down to a crawl on the approach to green traffic lights just in case they change, stops at roundabouts regardless of whether or not there's anything on or approaching them and grunts or groans every time the car goes over a slight bump or goes round a tight bend.

He's convinced that every single oncoming vehicle is using their main beam, even though they're obviously not and refuses to use his own on empty stretches of unlit road because he'll 'only have to switch it off when something comes the other way', which in turn means he has to drive much slower because he can't see the bends coming up.

Worst of all, he shouts 'WOAHHHH!' every time somebody makes what he considers to be a dangerous manouever. These include (but are not limited to) overtaking, doing 70 on the motorway (or generally driving faster then him - this includes just about everybody), merging with his lane ahead of him, being in the lane next to him at a roundabout, braking ahead of him for any reason, pulling away promptly at traffic lights or not approaching green traffic lights at a crawl just in case they change.

He's also utterly uncapable of parking his Vauxhall Safira and is convinced that his car is the height of automotive desirability.

I should add that as a father of two, he subjects me to in-depth breakdowns of exactly what his sons did in the previous 24 hours every morning. Not quite to the point of telling me how many beans they had on their toast and what time they went to the loo, but almost...

The average journey goes something like this:

"Mornin'"
"Allo, mate. I had a really busy evening last night."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, Gareth had his after-school class last night and... ooof.... I ....oof... had to go and collect him. His.... WOAHHHHHHH!... tie wasn't done up properly and his shirt was ... ooof... slightly untucked."
"Wh..."
"Anyway he got in the car and ... Lordy, turn your main beam off... WOAHHHHH ... got into the car and we drove home and he told me about his class. Do you know he wrote three pages. I'm so proud of him. Then I made him his ... WOAHHHHHHH... He could have caused an accident - those lights could have changed at any time... I made him his tea, which was sausages and mash - I used four potatoes and his third sausage was slightly overdone."
"I..."
"What was I saying? Oh Yeah. So I had to drive him to his judo class. It's only a hundred yards away, but... oof... I don't like him being out on his own in the ... WOAHHHHHH... in the dark, even though he's 15..."

And so-on...

That's it. I'm all ranted out, now. You can go about your business...