Pestilicence – Part 2

After ten years I tried again! This time I even attended learner’s licence classes – and I passed the test with flying colours, the first time round! The very capable Beebee Boone, the more mature lady who would presumably understand my hang-ups, was my next hapless instructor. I went on to fail the driver’s test two more times. Every time I attempted to execute my unique version of parallel parking, one or more of those diabolic white poles jumped up in my line of vision and fell onto the tarmac with a resounding thud! Don’t ask me why … And in my shock and horror I also once managed to let the car roll which, in itself, constitutes immediate failure – end of the test. Oh Beebee, Beebee so sorry about this boo-boo! At this critical juncture, my son reckoned I should throw myself on the mercy of Speedy Gonzales and his girl, Scheronda (she with the scrawny doggerel called Poopsie) – a most formidable trio. Speedy and Co. had a track record second to none. All their students pass. Full stop. No ifs, no buts. Well, thanks to me, this fearless former traffic officer almost had an apoplectic fit in the parking lot behind Shoprite just before my fourth driver’s test. All of a sudden I was a complete blank and could not remember anything about alley docking, parallel parking and/or the pre-trip inspection. Of course I sent the poles flying – again – in the course of my fourth and final test … And so I blackened poor Speedy’s name, besmirched his hitherto irreproachable reputation. Scheronda took me home in a huff, before I even had time to book another appointment … As time marched on relentlessly, I finally booked a few lessons with the charming young man, Valiant Prince, the son of none other than Bertie Bullfrog, the first instructor who tried to show me the ropes, more than ten years ago … Vallie and I really hit it off, and there was a glimmer of hope in my heart. And then my learner’s licence expired – again … Oh, I have shed many bitter tears about all these mishaps – especially when I failed my first learner’s and my fourth driver’s test. But I also learned to laugh at myself. I have a story to tell – hopefully a funny one. Come to think of it, isn’t a flaky fifty-year-old failure far more amusing than a whizz kid of 18, who passes without batting an eye-lid? And dear neurotic Poopsie loved me to bits. I would like to give myself the benefit of the doubt and believe that this scrawny little doggerel was an excellent judge of character, and that he came to the indisputable conclusion that I am actually a rather nice old bat, even though I should never drive a car, to quote my dad. To be continued – The amazing story of Cha Sa-soon

Pestilensie – Deel 2

Ná tien jaar probeer ek toe weer – woon selfs leerlinglisensieklasse by en kom die toets met vlieënde vaandels deur … Ek beland in die bekwame hande van Babsie Boonstra, die meer volwasse dame wat my “hang-ups” sal verstaan. Babsie het haar bes gedoen, maar ek dop nóg twee keer die bestuurstoets – en nóg twee keer is die vervlakste paaltjies in die jaart heeltyd in my pad. En toe rol die karretjie sommer ook op die koop toe, aldus die toetsbeampte, al wou ek haar nie glo nie … Ai, Babsie, Babsie – jammer vir die blapsie. Op dié perteks reken my seun ek moet die dienste van Speedy Gonzales en sy girl, Scheronda (met haar pieperige hondjie Piepsie), inroep. Speedy had skynbaar ‘n “track record” wat skrik vir niks – al sy leerlinge slaag – punt. “No ifs, no buts” … Wel, ek het Speedy en Scheronda se geduld tot die uiterste beproef. Die uwe het die arme man amper ‘n apopleksie besorg tydens ‘n oefening op Shoprite se parkeerterrein net voor my vierde toets. Daar slaat ek toe ‘n volslae “blank” met die gang- en par parkering, die driepuntdraai – en ek kan van ‘n voorrit-inspeksie net mooi niks onthou nie. En natuurlik het ek weer tydens die toets ‘n paar paaltjies gepiets … En so word ek ‘n klad op Speedy se naam, dien sy onbesproke rekord ‘n nekslag toe. Scheronda het my stroef en woordeloos by die huis gaan aflaai, vóór ek weer ‘n volgende toetsdatum kon bespreek. En terwyl die uurglas meedoënloos leegloop, beland ek by die jonkman Waldemar Prins, niemand anders nie as die seun van Kiepie die Cowboy, wat my ‘n dekade gelede probeer touwys maak het … Ek en ou Waldie het heel goed gekliek en daar het ‘n vonkie hoop in my hart ontbrand. Maar toe verval my learner’s weer … Ai, ek al bitterlik oor al hierdie mislukkings geween - veral toe ek my eerste learners en my vierde bestuurstoets gedop het. Maar dan vee ek maar weer die trane af en lag lekker vir myself. Ek het ‘n storie om te vertel – een wat mense hopelik sal laat laat lag. Want ‘n bedremmelde druipeling van vyftig is immers baie snaakser as ‘n whizz kid van 18 wat dadelik deurkom … of hoe? En watwo, ou Piepsie het van my gehou. Ek kies om myself die voordeel van die twyfel te gee en glo graag dus dat die miniskule, neurotiese brakkie kon aanvoel ek is eintlik ‘n heel gawe antie, al hoort ek dalk nie agter die wiel van ‘n mouterkar nie – om my pa verbatim aan te haal. Word vervolg – Die merkwaardige verhaal van Cha Sa-soon