Having had a couple of run-ins with mobility scooters, I have a
very irrational, pure hatred of them. After 3 failed tests and 9 years worth of
driving lessons, finally passing my driving test felt very victorious. (No
typing error. Yes that does say 9 years!) My first car that I bought, 2 months
later, was my pride and joy and nothing still gives me pleasure than jumping in
my car and going off for a drive. During my first year of driving I was turning
right on a busy, major road when, low and behold, there was an elderly lady on
a mobility scooter in the middle of the road in front of me, also waiting to
turn right. As it was rush hour traffic, I think it was about 10 hours (probably
not) that I was sat behind the scooter waiting to turn. Feeling my blood
boiling, I still sat there patiently waiting thinking about how hungry I was,
desperately wanting my tea. After what felt like an eternity, I finally got to
turn right but then got stuck behind it going up a narrow street. Arriving
home, I began my 'grumpy old woman' rant, whilst trying not to dribble down my
top like a salivating dog. And that is where it all began. It's really
unhealthy and not very nice but when I see a mobility scooter, the rage hits
me! I got rammed in the ankles by one in Asda a few months ago and it totally ruined my
shopping experience, mainly because I could not concentrate as I was putting
all my energy into not having a total hissy fit at some poor old man who probably
really needs his scooter. On my street there is a man who drives up and down on
a mobility scooter
that has a union jack on the back of it. It drives me mad. Every time I see it,
I turn into Basil Fawlty and start ranting, even if I am by myself. The final straw was
when I saw someone PUSH their scooter out of the garage, have a little ride
around the drive and then push it back in. Believe me; Fawlty came out on that occasion!
This week, my
friend Michelle suggested that perhaps Karma is paying me back. I know she is
right because I feel like I really want, or even need, a blasted mobility
scooter. Nick managed to take me on a trip to Asda last night (I get to go to all the best
places!) and, despite being in a wheel chair, which is another story in it's
self, I reverted back to being a child. 'I want, I want, I want.' Filled with
jealousy, I glared at an old lady driving past me in the supermarket. What I
really, really, really wanted was a mobility scooter but Nick wouldn't let me
for fear that I might turn in to a hells angel and cause chaos round Asda.
So, I hang my head
in shame. Karma has finally kicked me up the backside (or in the left foot) and
made me a changed woman. May I be struck by lightening if I ever try to bang
into the back of a mobility scooter, even if I can't promise that Basil Fawlty will never grace my door again at the
sight of one.
Come on blog lady. We're eager for the next installment!
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