WHEN was the last time you had an argument in a car and who was it with? I hate all arguments. They are a pointless waste of precious life.
If you don’t agree with my point of view, you can do one! Especially when I am the driver. I have lives at stake here! I haven’t got time for you to be narky or unpleasant.
The reality of being the family driver, however, is very different. Arguments happen and, as the driver, I try to zone out, avoiding such nonsense until the point where my concentration is interrupted. Then I snarl like a bear woken from his mid-winter slumbers, and God help my passengers.
I am one of three brothers, the eldest, and so the one who was ALWAYS right. What I said was law on the back seat, let me tell you.
That was until my mother spoke. She was a beautiful woman but fearsome. That beady eye in the sun visor mirror was enough to silence our high jinks with a glance. On the rare occasions that mum failed to silence the screeching in the back, my Dad would merely threaten to stop the car and we behaved.
I am, to this day, unsure what would have happened had we not behaved. The car would have been stopped but what mayhem would have followed is an area I have rarely returned to as an adult.
I have vague recollections of being threatened with having our heads banged together, or being left at the side of the road, or delivered to a children’s home. I am sure I would have had a great case for social services, had anyone cared about young people back in the day.
I grew up in the school of hard knocks. We didn’t go crying to people. If Dad shouted, we listened. I am sure those days of discord in the family car have made me a much more patient and calmer driver.
Harsh words are short-lived in our car. We save our best arguments for behind closed doors. That’s much more civilised. Car time is far too precious to waste on argy-bargy.
