Old Mamasan is wise enough, and experienced enough, to know that when moving to Spain, a car will be a necessity. Sure, there are many ideological souls out there that swear on using their feet when going shopping, sightseeing, and what have you. Not Old Mamasan. No, Sir! I will have a car, that is the way I roll! (pun intended)

While booking the rental car, the option of including a GPS appears. No, thank you, I will bring my own “voice in a box“. Now, my “voice in a box” is sometimes quirky, and not seldom has she led me astray. But for the most part, she is a reliable and trustworthy friend, giving me clear and correct directions in (almost) every crossroad.

Old Mamasan has as much sense of direction as a loaf of bread, so I am totally reliant on the box. If she leads me astray – well, then I am lost. Getting lost is not always a bad thing; I have discovered so many cool places just by being lost. However – the box can be a real pain in the sit-upon, especially in heavy traffic. It is in those situations her nagging both instigates an argument, and brings out the road rage in me:

Box: Turn right at the intersection.

Mamasan: Right, got it!

Box: Turn right at the intersection.

Mamasan: I will, but right now I have to wait for the light to change.

Box: Turn right at the intersection.

Mamasan: Stupid much? I have a red light! R-E-D! Now shut up!

Box: Turn right at the intersection

Passenger seat: *giggles at the crazy woman arguing with the box* 

Mamasan: Shut up!

You think I eased out in the intersection and took a nice, calm right – after that argument with the box? No, Sir! We are talking loud acceleration (I would say fast, but the 4 horse powers in the Fiat 500 had a tendency to limit essentials like acceleration and speed.) Hands clasping stearing wheel and stick shift with white knuckles, yanking the stick shift from gear to gear and making a very sharp right – all while cursing everyone who has the audacity to be at the same intersection as myself at the exact same time. Donkeys! Yeah, I road rage.

Box: In the roundabout, take the third exit

Mamasan: All right, better change lanes then, and position myself in the inner lane.

Box: In the roundabout, take the third exit.

Mamasan: One… Two… This one!

Stupid car in the outer lane: Wroooom! Hooooonk! Wroooom!

Mamasan: *extends middle finger towards stupid car in outer lane (and decides to take an extra round)*  Road rage much?

Passenger seat: *in a snarky know-it-all-teenager-tone*  I notice that everyone uses the outer lane, even when they are going all the way around the roundabout.

Box: Recalculates.

Mamasan: What’s the point of the inner lane then?

Passenger seat: *still in a snarky know-it-all-teenager-tone* I don’t make the rules. I just make observations.

Box: In the roundabout, take the third exit

Mamasan: *on her second round in the roundabout*  I’ve lost count, so give me some helpful directions or shut up!

Box: Recalculates.

Passenger seat: *weird snorting, gasping and annoying laughing-sounds*

Mamasan: If you don’t shut up, I’ll recalculate your butt to the moon and back!

Box: In the roundabout, take the third exit.

Passenger seat: *loud laughing and knee-slapping-noises*

Mamasan: You’re grounded.

Passenger seat: Me or the box?

Mamasan: Both of you. Donkeys!

Box: Recalculates.

Yup. I road rage. Much.


(First time posted 06 Aug 2015)


Daily prompt: Crossroads

4 thoughts on “Road rage much? (repost)

  1. Olive, you had me laughing from beginning to end with this one! You sound exactly like me when I’m trying to navigate with my GPS… Of course, I don’t have a side seat driver to witness my rage. Probably a good thing. 😉
    Thank you for visiting me today!

    Liked by 1 person

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