Sunday, April 26, 2009

Formula Four Driver

I have become the most unfaithful blogger, I know. But trusting the family I have here, I am confident of being forgiven, else you won’t be reading this post. Abi?

I sure missed everyone and the style of writing that set each blogger’s post apart from the other. I can’t categorically say that I am back fully to blogging, due to my schedule at work, and a small writing contract I just picked up, and the loads of books waiting to be read, but I’ll do my best.

Okay, let’s get to my latest gist.

One Sunday in church at the car park, my friend had just parked when a Starguard (unit in charge of traffic in church) guy told a woman to park properly, so other cars could be parked. She quickly let down the window and told the guy she wasn’t a formula four driver.

That same day, I got a past message from church and in that sermon there was something about the difference between men and women when they drive, and how a woman would make a three point turn where a man would make just one. And men will be complaining about that. In a nutshell, don’t try to make someone into yourself. People are different. Don’t try to make me into the expert I am yet to become, because I am just a beginner.

This girl here is gradually becoming an Abeokuta chic and I don’t know if I like that at all. Imagine me looking forward to my weekends in Lagos, then weekend comes and just a day in Lagos I can’t wait to get back to Rock City. One major factor for that change is the fear of Okada and containers. And what I feel I might turn into if I don’t flee Lagos and the roads.

The only time I dared to drive outside in Lagos, I bashed my car. I never bash anything for Rock City o, na only ditch I don fall inside, and motor no get scratch o. Common small bash give me scratch. And that scratch turned me into a fine car sadist (excuse the word). Yes. Before, I used to admire fine cars that are obviously new. Now what I do when I see them is look at the body carefully for a scratch. And seeing one just makes my day; a confirmation that we in the club are much.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t make driving in Rock City for a learner any easier. The hills in this town are killing. The sharp bends, corners and alarming slopes on my way, makes Lagos roads a welcome paradise. What’s more, too many people are moving down to Rock City and congesting the roads for me. I love Lagos, but can we leave Lagos and the cars in Lagos so I can drive properly?

Accepted that I no longer am blowing off fan belts just to move a car; my heart still races when I have to go from gear 2 to 3 (I’ve made the mistake of moving from two to five before), after that, I can take you on a ride provided no check points or junctions to stop me sha, especially on a hill, else to move forward again, na back car dey roll go.

I know I will get there. After all, my friend drives a manual and she even travels from Lagos to Asaba, driving herself, and she moves smooth. She no get two heads. Yes, whenever I am about to give up and tell the driver to take over, all I need do, is remind myself of C, and how perfect she is with a manual car, and I get uplifted. And soon enough, while I’m chancing tankers and containers on Lagos roads, I’ll try not to pick up the language of most Lagos drivers.

So, if any of you need a formula four (or is it five) driver, I’ll deliver you safe and sound. My rates are considerate.

All that said, I’m looking for recipes people. I’m trying to acquire the
characteristics of the Calabar woman in the kitchen. Anyone you have please; no matter how simple, don’t assume I know it, just drop it for me. And does anyone know how to prepare any meal with very little of no oil at all? Recipes please.

You all have a blessed week. And did I say my Caveman had to remind me over a month ago that we were a year old? Hmm! A year! No wonder my knees don’t go weak anymore, and all the butterflies in my stomach have died out of hunger for rush.