In which the Superkid gets a Holter, my car a new scratch and the mystery is explained of why I don't have any friends.
I don't really like to use my car to go to Rotterdam, I prefer to take the bike. I use my car to go to work two days a week. Those drives are not very exciting, but they are much faster than public transport and it is too far for the pushbike. Believe me, I would. There's nothing I particularly enjoy about driving but I'm an efficient driver I just roll along quietly half asleep admiring the scenery and drop myself off at the door.
Sometimes, like today, I need to take the car because I have to pick up the superkid. He had a cardio checkup. He has a new doctor and the new doctor wants a Holter.
A Holter is a 24hr heart film - electro cardiogram. The doctor didn't explain much more - he just said "he is going to carry a second one of those" and nodded in the direction of the psp the superkid is forever carrying around his neck. The Holter is like a psp with seven wires that are attached to steel nipples glued to his chest. We are supposed to note every physical activity the superkid does and the time at which it takes place:
14:40 - Holter start
15:00 - switch psp (Play Station Portable) on
23:00 - switch psp off
7:00 - switch psp on
and so on
The superkid is very happy with it because as long as he wears the Holter is not allowed to bathe or shower.
To test the new toy I promised to take us out for a bikeride, but for this we'd have to hurry home, because the afternoon is getting on. On the drive home in the car, we cross a bridge. There's two lanes of traffic leading up to the bridge where they miraculously merge into one. Normally. Not this time.
I'm in the continuing lane. When my turn comes, I let one car merge in and hop on his bumper. But an old dented Ford is following him so close I have to look twice to see he's not being towed.
He's not being towed. I'm in a hurry to get to the bike and get some data into that Holter. I'm having none of this pushy crap, not normally, and least of all now.
I am not giving way. But he clings and he clings. When I look up I see a woman in the passenger seat doing a birdie at me. I am really not in the mood to let a gesture like that persuade me. The strip narrows. There's no room for two cars now. Our mirrors hit.
The passenger door slams open against mine. Party time.
I am not going into details but the police had to come and at the end of the encounter the superkid informed me that he has finally solved the mystery of why I don't have any friends: "You fight with everybody."
The worst thing is that I had to give them my address because I forced them (three grubby looking half dressed teenagers with greasy hair) to fill in the insurance form.
The driver of the other car is eighteen years old, has only had his drivers license for three months and closes his fly with a safety pin.
We are still doing that bike ride.
After all this, I DESERVE it.