Speaking your mind (for dummies)

As I pushed the double stroller along the home straight, our attention was drawn by the squeal of wheels and the erratic movement of headlights against the late afternoon sky. There was a black car accelerating from the traffic lights and heading straight for us.

I started planning what I should do. There was a [very slim] chance that the car could lose control and come straight for me and the two most precious little things ever entrusted to my care. If there was trouble, I'd wait until I knew what evasive action to take and I'd take it, wrestling the stroller in which ever direction necessary with double the body strength I naturally possess. The kids watched in interest as the car sped wildly towards us.

Then suddenly, it stopped. It had only travelled about 50m from the lights and just - stopped. I spoke to Sonny Ma-Jiminy about how dangerous the driving was, and how we prefer to drive our car. As we got closer, I realised with a mental forehead-slap that he was likely to say something disparaging about "the crazy drivers" as we got closer, so I hissed to him not to say anything.

We drew level with the black car. Two happy young men had got out, dressed in the party attire of many young Australian men: singlets, baggy shorts and thongs (pardon ME - "flip-flops"). They had walked around to the back of their car and started examining a large liquid leak from a drinks container in the boot (trunk) which had apparently been caused by the erratic driving at the traffic lights.

They decided it was a minor inconvenience and with a few smiles and jokes to each other, made a move to enter the house outside which they'd parked.

They noticed me looking with satisfaction at the leak dripping from the back of the car and onto the road as I passed. They made some good-natured remark, and I plucked up the courage to speak.

"Does it give you a smooth ride?" I enquired, obviously referring to the car.

"Oh, we don't drive it very smoothly," they laughed.

"Hm, yeah, I saw you at the lights," I said.

"Ah, yeah, no," they laughed, "Always in control though! Nothing to worry about!"

"Look, I dunno, when I saw you screaming off at the traffic lights, I was way up there and I was thinking that if you went crazy, I'd have to get the kids safely out of the way ..."

More good-natured grins and embarrassed laughter. "Oh no, we always stay in control, always very careful," they reassured me.

"Well, okay, that's good to hear. It's just that, you know, if you ever spin out of control and kill my kids, I'll just have to cut your balls off with a rusty knife. I'm sure you understand. Any other Mum will tell you the same," I replied cheerily as I smiled, waved and walked off.

Oh no, wait, I DIDN'T! Because I never think of the perfect thing to say until it's too late! That parting shot was only THOUGHT by me as I walked away with the sounds of the carefree party animals receding in the distance.

Sometimes I'm so slow I make myself mad.