The farm

Nearly bought le farm today. Well, maybe nearly is a bit of an exaggeration. I had a few feet to spare. But it was disconcerting nonetheless. Had a meeting down in Mayaro today, a 2 hour drive to the south east coast. Always glad to get out of the office, I was pretty excited by the idea. Took my laptop with the fantasy of writing on the beach for an hour or two after the meeting. Wouldn't that have been neat.

Well, I did park on the beach around one, and had lunch there, but it's a very lonely coast, and as the saying goes, in space no-one can hear you scream. I angled my mirrors to let me watch all approaches behind me, just in case anybody had the idea of mugging the stupid single woman. Nobody did, but I scarpered as soon as lunch was over. Ah, well. Here are a few pics just to prove I'm not lying.

Anyhow, that experience wasn't exactly farm-worthy. What was farm-worthy took place along a strip of road called the Valencia stretch. It's a few miles of smooth straight road the brings out the Stiriling Moss in dumb people. I was driving mildly along when the car in front of me went into a tailspin and skated off the road in a cloud of dust. I thought maybe he'd blown a tyre. Then I realized he'd done it deliberately, to avoid the onslaught of a mini-bus (we call 'em maxi-taxis) whose dumbass driver thought it would be a capital idea to overtake 5 or 6 other maxi taxis at the same time.

I pulled and skated, he pulled and skated in the opposite direction, almost going up on two wheels, he had to brake so fast.

Nope, t'weren't a nice experience. Nosiree.

Jackass.

re the pix: I really ought to smile more, eh?