Where one physical body is the other can not be. And if forced, both collide : bang goes the mirror.
Some of the villages I drive through every day, are pretty old, so the roads and streets tend to be narrow. Usually … this morning I entered one of these bottlenecks while another vehicle came in my direction, and both left hand mirrors came into contact.
I was really flabbergasted and looked at the thing in disbelief while I was still going ahead, I realised my slow reaction and brought the car to a standstill. Walking back the other driver came my way, we chatted a bit until I realised that he was really a bit shocked. His hands were shaking when he lid a cigarette.
We had a look at my bus, and while my co-driver was busily shouting insults and then turned towards her phone to call the headquarters, I walked with the guy to his car. It was totally unharmed : The glass not shattered, the mirror’s shell unharmed (not even a scratch !), door alright, no scratches. So we decided to swap cards, he gave me the one of his chief, the owner of the vehicle, while I gave him the one of my dispatcher. He inhaled half of his ciggie while we talked about this & that, me gently ignoring his bright red swollen right eye, thankfully my co-driver was too distant to be understood. My bus only suffered from a broken mirror shell / box. Later, while a new mirror was installed (they have them stored in bulk), I talked to my dispatcher, and that was that.
After having dented my mirror I encountered at least another three near misses this morning, when idiots decided to overtake either my vehicle or oncoming traffic against any better judgement. So I felt very happy for the new brake pads that were installed some days ago, they are run-in now, that’s for sure.
In the afternoon I lost my cool a bit when someone decided to make a full turn over all lanes in front of my bus while I was approaching at nearly one hundred kilometers an hour, then he settled into slumber mode instead of pushing that damn pedal to the metal, thus gently providing me with a chance to show my driving skills. I gushed out some colourful words about the driver’s family, sexual behaviour & general capabilities, and was promptly corrected by the young man sitting next to me with a stern “Das sagt man nicht !” / “Mind your language !” Yeah, education is great. Perhaps he learned something new.
Tomorrow again, another day on the roads of Franconia. I blame the sun, it triggers the release of hormones, and especially young males in old cars with lowered suspension and fat tyres suffer from embiggified glands. Poor sods. I do my best to keep them alive, and my kids unharmed, but in the end it’s steel, a big diesel, and a prayer.
And just because, let’s go down to the crossroads – yes, old fat white man’s music, but I like it, perhaps because I am an old fat white man, and Mr Clapton still can use his fingers.