Two Bits: Drivers with IQs lower than their cars’

My stomach turned as I read a report on our newsfeed about an accident on the N2 outside Ballito last week. A pregnant woman was hit by a car. Body parts, the paramedic said, were strewn along the highway together with pieces of the car. He also sent a picture of the car. It was a total wreck and looked as though it had hit a concrete wall.

How fast does a car have to be travelling to hit a person so hard that she actually explodes? Seriously, what is the car industry achieving by producing faster and faster cars? You can’t take them to their top speeds on the highway legally, so what’s the point?

I’m not talking here about a supercar like the Bugatti Veyron with a top speed of 415 km/h. You just have to look at the everyday Mercedes 300 SL that can hit 240 km/h. The same goes for a whole string of BMWs or even a number of smaller cars – they just go too fast!

Driving back from the Berg last weekend, twice cars blew past me that were doing over 180 km/h, ducking and weaving through the traffic as though their arses were on fire. But they were just showing off because they could, living proof that some drivers have lower IQs than their cars.

Respect for the rules of the road can only come about from constant policing. I know, I know, you’ll be calling me cuckoo, but it really has to be done for our own good. I do see the cops speed trapping on the highway fairly often, but when was the last time you were stopped and checked for driver’s licence, third-party disc and tyres? I can’t remember when it last happened to me. Of course, now I’ll get stopped next time I leave my licence at home!

Talking about cuckoos, we heard the summer migrant Diderik Cuckoo on the golf course on Saturday, more signs that summer is around the corner. A pair of palmnut vultures were also spotted there. I’ve only ever seen them in Mozambique and Mtunzini, though I’m told they’re not that uncommon in these parts.

The spring rains have been a little disappointing so far, so I hope they don’t arrive all at once next week. We’re off later this month on our annual visit to the Sabie Sands reserves, where we join up with a bird-crazy bunch who spend more time looking for LBJs than the Big Five. It has been many years since we timed our visit there for Spring, so it will be interesting to see how high the bird count will be with all the migrants present. The target should be in the 130-140 range.

I woke up Sunday morning to the lovely smell of baking and found Rose baking scones for church tea, which is the only time I ever see scones – i.e. as they go out the door to church. It must explain why Anglicans always appear so well fed.

That reminds me of the story about Malone, who was very, very sick. One morning he woke up feeling a little better, and, glory be, he caught the smell of fresh baking on the air. So, he dragged himself out of bed to make a cup of tea and investigate further. He gathered his strength and, gripping the railing with both hands, made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

Lo and behold, there on the kitchen table were a couple of plates of freshly-baked scones. Everybody knew Mrs Malone’s scones were the best in the village.

Malone staggered over to the table and picked up a lovely scone, loaded with butter, jam and cream. At that moment his wife came into the kitchen and smacked his hand with a wooden spoon. “Put that down this instant,” she scolded. “They’re not for you.”

“Then who are they for?” Malone spluttered.

“They’re for after the funeral,” his wife said.

* * *

I’m glad that not only I have a collection of bad jokes. Steve van der Schyff shares this one:

Why don’t ants ever get sick?

Because they have these tiny antibodies…

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