The two of us drive through the deserted Flevopolder. It is dusk. Next to the road it is teeming with roadside cash registers. Highly active speed traps have made the region famous and top safe. The car in the distance is therefore approached with suspicion and suspicion.
A woman steps out and waves friendly. We stop and park our mopeds safely. The SEAT hangs a bit sadly on the right. A flat tire. The young lady in question also noticed this and points us to the phenomenon. We ask: “Do you have a spare tire?” She has them. "He's in the back." “Do you have a jack?” She has that too. "It's also in the back." We become mildly curious. “Then why don't you change that wheel?” Something rebellious sparks in her eyes in the falling darkness.
"But don't you see I'm not dressed for that at all?" We don't see much of it and it gets dark quickly. But we do see that this lady did not go shopping at the Wibra. "So. That's smart. Actually neither do we. However? How long have you been standing here?” That was only about five minutes. “And how long do you stand if no one helps you?” We become curious.
With the sigh of a teacher who explains something to the dumbest boys in the class, Blondie sighs: "Well, if you see a woman in need, then you're an appalling ignoramus if you don't help her." We look at each other appreciatively. “We don't think you're in need. You're just too bad to do anything yourself. We're going well. It is 2021. It would be too role-confirming if we were to change wheels here now.” We greet and start the horses again. A car pulls up behind us. Our stranded princess takes a cautious step off the roadside.
In our mirrors we see her raising a hand. Later we are at the gas station near Bunnik, drinking coffee and eating cholesterol. Travel makes you hungry. And it is still quite cold. As our jaws grind fat, after all, flat calories don't add up, our former stranded princess enters the gas station. She greets you kindly. She takes a bottle of trendy water from the cooler and pays for her excise juice and the water.
Then she walks relaxed towards us. “The next one to stop helped me. I didn't even have to sound pathetic. Are all over-1.0s so straight to the point? I just thought you were all midlife losers on the hunt for your lost youth.” There's still some venom in that. We report that we are not fundamentalists of the type XNUMX men, but very flex. And that we don't know or will have a midlife crisis because we've always done the things we wanted to.
Blondie looks concerned: “I have that again. I meet a bunch of lucky guys.”
Always nice to read your pieces Dolf!
And well, I have nothing against people who can't, but I do against people who don't want to.
To be honest, I don't know whether I would have helped such a lady (or heat petit).
Wasn't there ever an ANWB course 'bad luck on the road' for women?
Yes, and also in professions where you sometimes get dirty hands, people have to be paid equally, because they do the same work…… unless it is dirty or heavy or unpleasant.
There are even those who call the ANWB for a flat bicycle tire instead of repairing or, if necessary, looking for a local bicycle repair shop.
Haha just nice
lol
Perhaps read the text again before posting. Such a shame about the almost always fun bits.
After years of "why don't those tough guys show their soft side!" and therefore desirable adjustments on our part, the feminine beauty is once again sighing for guys.
“They have all become soft wimps, where is that caveman?”
My soft side is meant to sit on, and emancipation princesses are not for me.
Sorry…but bluntness is for knives.