Sunday in the middle of July, sounds like the perfect day to stay in bed. But I didn't. I had the airport run to do. My ex is off to Japan to work on the Olympics. It's been a stressful week for him. Then he had gazillion forms needing filled plus three daily negative Covid tests with doctors signatures and stamps.
This morning, two friends sent me warning messages about riots on the motorways so I googled mapped the route. The back roads were the only ones suggested. This meant the time planning was a bit out, but fortunately very little traffic saw him chat up the traffic cop in the airport drop off zone in good time.
My turn to take the wheel. His car has a V6 engine, mine has a 600cc, not much bigger than a lawnmower. I think my eyes enlarge 4 times when I get behind the really big steering wheel. My hands were sweating in the fingerless gloves which I cautiously took off, while steering my ship round the airport interchanges (which are now really familiar due to my Monday uber trip to collect him from his Europe job) The calm auntie of Google talked me through the non highway roads and after about 15 minutes I began to enjoy the drive.
The large car hardly notices the bumpy roads unlike my squealing rattling Smart car and it is such a quiet drive.
Swapping back to my own car for my short ride home had me think about my packing but when I got home, I fell onto my comfy bed and heard the saying 'môre is nog 'n dag'- tomorrow is another day. And indeed it is.
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