Driving on the weekend

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We just had a great weekend. There were many people on the road who enjoyed it. But we were again confronted with the type of person who makes traffic very dangerous at the weekend: The senior motorist.

Danger on the inland roads: The man with a slit hat and a ball-neck

* When: During the weekend
* Where: On rustic routes between villages and provincial towns such as Doetinchem and Dokkum.
* Recognize the danger: It is a dying breed, riding in older, larger middle classes. Consider: "wine red Audi 100" (or a fresh entry-friendly pastry.)

It is always about local traffic

The driver's father may still have driven the same route by horse and carriage. The driver has the imperturbability of his age and the calm tranquility of a genetic rural resident. In unguarded moments he shouts “ Hooo !! ” during braking and pulls on the handlebars as if it were a set of reins.

The speed of other traffic falls outside of its comprehension. His sight is limited by the smoke of the cigar, which sits firmly in the corner of his mouth and whose ash regularly falls on his lap and the edge of his hat. He sees the grain on the land of an old classmate of his state and is satisfied.

If a gray lady with a blue rinse sits next to him, that increases the danger. For decades he has been used to the idea that 'communicating' is a matter of talking and listening. She talks. He listens. But if his wife gives him a spontaneous command like "Stop, I see a nice little shop there!" He is already on the brake with 'stop'. Left and right commands are just as immediately obeyed.

Recognize the danger: The slit hat carrier does not attack. After all, a falling hundred-year-old oak does not attack either. The slit hat carrier 'is'. But the result can be disastrous.

The appropriate defense

Adjust. The man enjoys his surroundings quietly. Just forget about the nice curves and drive after him and you will find roads that your GPS does not even know. If you get to talk to him on a ferry, he will tell you that his father once had an MG TD. But after the third child it was put away. “Put away? Where is he put away? "" Ah, just in the back of the barn. On our farm. He is still there. Because it was a nice thing anyway ”

"Oh yes, when was he put away?" "That was somewhere in the late 1960s." "Gee, I would like to see such an old car ..." We will go home anyway. Then you also get a glass of soda. "

And then you suddenly look very differently at such an old motorist…. You will realize that dancing dynamically through the curves is not that much more fun than having a quiet conversation. And that the just as slow drive to the farm only makes that ride more exciting.

The kind of lesson in this story? Don't worry about traffic. And imagine how you drive at 7. In your classic metallic red Audi QXNUMX SUV.

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4 comments

  1. Again a wonderful and honest writing! Always a pleasure to read these articles. Realistic and with the much needed humor.

    AutoMotor distinguishes itself time and again, in such a way (To be able to recite Walter de Rochebrune, Wim de Bie), from so many other writings of the profusion of car and motorcycle magazines. Chapeau, already, as it were ...

    Mvg, Alfredo

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