My life has become a quest for the perfect drive home from work.
Judging the gaps in the traffic just right. Always being in just the right gear at the perfect moment. Flying around roundabouts without stopping or slowing. Nailing every corner apex. Catching every green light.

And doing the lot while staying just within the tolerance level of the local traffic cops' interpretation of the speed limit.

Just last night I caught a late movie in the city and had a thirty kilometre trip home in the middle of the night on deserted roads. I cranked Radio Birdman right up on the stereo and flew home. Bliss. I didn't get to sleep until 3am, even after a litre of green tea, I was so buzzed. I paid for it dearly at work today, having had stuff all sleep, and that in short bursts due to having to get up every half hour to de-tea.

/Looks longingly at car keys...
//Drives an old, bog standard, boring, underpowered Toyota.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 12:43, Reply)