Riding with Tommy Bourne

With the confidence of a lone lion, I shift with the stick in my wrong hand whilst sitting in the wrong car seat and driving on the wrong side of the road while soaring at 80 (km/hr). Every car we rent is named euroPuff, has a clutch, and doesn’t have a second gear worth a damn.

My wife believes driving in another country takes two people. It. Does. Not.

And my wife says:

“Stay on the left side.” “We’re in the gutter.” “You just hit their rear view mirror.” I did NOT

In Jo’burg, South Africa, people stand in the road – between the lanes – to ask for money and direct traffic. Kids jump off the sidewalk to help you park. I KNOW how to parallel park; I grew up in New YORK.

And my wife says:

“I heard someone honk. You did something wrong.” I did NOT Woman’s voice on the GPS: “You are 8 km over the speed limit.” Wife: “You’re 20 km over the speed limit.” Kids: “Yeah, dad!” Me: “I’m just keeping with  traffic!”

Why do people walk on the road?

On the highway shoulder, people walk on both sides of the yellow line. Like they’re going to pull Rand coins out of my ashtray.

The Wife gets the kids involved and my neck gets hot. And my kids chitter:

“Yeah, Dad, you’re gonna get us all killed.” Me: “Watch out for that windshield, kid.”

What my wife and kids don’t understand – and men, yours don’t either – is when we get behind the (small) wheel in another country, we all believe – we can feel it – we’re Jason Bourne, dammit.

I meant to do that!

I’m not trying to crush the Autobahn, shoot at a helicopter, or even play w/ the Polish radio. But I will not back down in traffic; I don’t care whose town I’m in.

• If there’s free parking on either side of the road, I’m taking it.
• I’m happy to bounce down a flight of city steps and accelerate backward through an alley to get where I’m going.
• If I park half on the sidewalk, half on that funky, squiggly line on the street, it’s because I mean to do that.
• If I have to rev euroPuff up to 110 (km/hr) in fifth gear to pass the fruit truck pulling a wagon with rope, well, I’m doing  it. And I don’t need any frikkin’ help along the way!
• I’m Tommy Bourne! And, yes, my lights are on for safety.

– Tom Sakell