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A cousin of mine and her husband decided to buy a small car after both of them retired and settled in their own home.
The hubby didn't even know cycling and was scared of learning to drive such a huge vehicle with all sorts of gear-sticks and pedals and meters and lights and blinkers. So he gave up even the attempt.
His wife was more adventurous and enrolled herself in a motor driving school and by and by got her driving license without going to the trouble of taking a driving test...My India!
And the day after getting her license, she asked her hubby to sit beside her and drove to the market place. And hit a bus from behind and got a dent with all lights smashed.
The hubby promptly forbade her from taking the wheel thereafter. And they engaged a driver. This chap was a youngster of 21 full of spirits of youth.
And one day I was invited to go for a joy ride all the way to Madras, a good three hours away. And the hubby had a rule that he would always act as an escort to see that the driver doesn't doze and crash their new car, and so occupied the front seat. And the lady and I were passengers in the rear seats.
For the entire trip, the lady was in the running commentary mode:
"Slow sloow slooow...don't overtake buses and trucks...no need to honk all the time...use the parking brake when you are in doubt...turn down the AC...it is not that warm in December...did you check the engine oil level before we started...do it at the next halt...don't use the clutch pedal as your footrest...the clutch plate will wear out...stay in the third gear while on the highway and in the second while passing through a village...why do you play film songs...take out the Gita cassette....brother loves it...ask the policeman for directions....Madras is a city...this is not Nellore..."
I was told the young man resigned his position after that trip and spread the word. And they could only get an old Father William like me next.
The next time we met, both the lady and her hubby gained weight and cholesterol and triglycerides and blood pressure and blood sugar and clogged vessels. They told me that their heart specialist advised them to take daily evening walks for five kilometers. But Nellore, where they were living, was too congested a place for long walks and they were forlorn.
So, I suggested that they ask their good old driver to report every evening and drive them to the Nellore railway station and park and wait for an hour. Meanwhile they can buy platform tickets and take lovely breezy engaging walks from one end of the platform to the other back and forth and forth and back and back and forth till they were timed out.
They liked this idea and kept it up for a couple of days but stopped it.
I asked them why and was told by the hubby that they suspected their driver was using their car as a taxi at the railway station and making money on the sly and reporting that the fuel consumption of the car had shot up like a moon-rocket.
So they abandoned the drill and by and by found no use of a regular driver since both were retired and stopped working.
The last I heard was that their car gathered cobwebs and rust and when they tried to sell it off they were told that their brand of car didn't have any resale value and they had to sell it as scrap.
That was when I recalled the fable of the Father, Son and their Donkey:
...Posted by Ishani
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...The air-conditioner which was supposed to make one's journey free from dust, and heat, and noise, was switched on, during the ten years I used the car, for a total of thirty minutes, which worked out to less than three minutes a year. Whenever the air-conditioner was on, the widows were to be closed; which inhibited my driver, whose habit was to show right or left turn by thrusting his arms out, who, when the glass was raised, constantly hit it with his fist. He was also in the habit of gesticulating at erring pedestrians and addressing them volubly in passing, now he felt constricted, encapsulated, and tongue-tied, and drove morosely. Also I think he was conditioned to driving to the tune of the rattle and roar of the vehicles beside, behind, and ahead, and without such accompaniments he could not proceed with any confidence....
...RKN
A cousin of mine and her husband decided to buy a small car after both of them retired and settled in their own home.
The hubby didn't even know cycling and was scared of learning to drive such a huge vehicle with all sorts of gear-sticks and pedals and meters and lights and blinkers. So he gave up even the attempt.
His wife was more adventurous and enrolled herself in a motor driving school and by and by got her driving license without going to the trouble of taking a driving test...My India!
And the day after getting her license, she asked her hubby to sit beside her and drove to the market place. And hit a bus from behind and got a dent with all lights smashed.
The hubby promptly forbade her from taking the wheel thereafter. And they engaged a driver. This chap was a youngster of 21 full of spirits of youth.
And one day I was invited to go for a joy ride all the way to Madras, a good three hours away. And the hubby had a rule that he would always act as an escort to see that the driver doesn't doze and crash their new car, and so occupied the front seat. And the lady and I were passengers in the rear seats.
For the entire trip, the lady was in the running commentary mode:
"Slow sloow slooow...don't overtake buses and trucks...no need to honk all the time...use the parking brake when you are in doubt...turn down the AC...it is not that warm in December...did you check the engine oil level before we started...do it at the next halt...don't use the clutch pedal as your footrest...the clutch plate will wear out...stay in the third gear while on the highway and in the second while passing through a village...why do you play film songs...take out the Gita cassette....brother loves it...ask the policeman for directions....Madras is a city...this is not Nellore..."
I was told the young man resigned his position after that trip and spread the word. And they could only get an old Father William like me next.
The next time we met, both the lady and her hubby gained weight and cholesterol and triglycerides and blood pressure and blood sugar and clogged vessels. They told me that their heart specialist advised them to take daily evening walks for five kilometers. But Nellore, where they were living, was too congested a place for long walks and they were forlorn.
So, I suggested that they ask their good old driver to report every evening and drive them to the Nellore railway station and park and wait for an hour. Meanwhile they can buy platform tickets and take lovely breezy engaging walks from one end of the platform to the other back and forth and forth and back and back and forth till they were timed out.
They liked this idea and kept it up for a couple of days but stopped it.
I asked them why and was told by the hubby that they suspected their driver was using their car as a taxi at the railway station and making money on the sly and reporting that the fuel consumption of the car had shot up like a moon-rocket.
So they abandoned the drill and by and by found no use of a regular driver since both were retired and stopped working.
The last I heard was that their car gathered cobwebs and rust and when they tried to sell it off they were told that their brand of car didn't have any resale value and they had to sell it as scrap.
That was when I recalled the fable of the Father, Son and their Donkey:
...Posted by Ishani
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