So poor MW had an incredibly fortunate little car smash in Dundrum yesterday. My own excitement happened before we met - I was late due to my husband being late home and forgetting to pump some milk til the last minute (see, I really am a momma). I knew I needed petrol, the needle was into the red, but was hoping to get to Dundrum, where it's cheapest. I knew I should have topped up on the way out of Bray but I was late and after much desperate deliberation (helped by the person in the little van driving at 25 miles an hour in front of me - road rage road rage) I whizzed (sort of, see last bracket) past the garage.
I then had a fraught but slightly exciting drive to Dundrum - would I run out of gas on the motorway? I heaved a sigh of relief when I got off, but would I now break down on a roundabout at Ballinteer and have to look for help in a girly fashion - could I call Midge to come and get me bringing a little red canister of petrol, or could I all my roadside assistance over such a silly matter - I got closer and closer, cursing every car that made me stop on the roundabouts, the needle passed the red.
And I made it. Woo! It reminded me of the episode of Seinfeld (I'm so low culture, all my reference are to American tv programmes) where Kramer goes for an insane test drive and convinces the dealer employee to see how far they can keep going after the petrol runs out. They're both pumped on adrenaline til the inevitable happens and Kramer leaves the guy stranded on the freeway, I think.
I hope this doesn't mean I'm Kramer... I'd like to think there's a metaphor in here somewhere, but actually I suspect there isn't....