Back of TruckOh shit, that was well and truly nearly the end of me. Not a good idea to start off the morning with a high dose of unwanted adrenaline! :(

Let me set the picture then. 06:30 in the morning, heading past the informal settlement along Baden Powell. It’s dark, it’s misty and your windshield is covered in condensation and mist, both inside and out. The lights of oncoming traffic glare off your windshield, momentarily blinding you for that split second as they pass. The radio is on, Mr. Cliff is being entertaining as usual. In the distance, a grey, metallic truck slows to a stop in order to turn right. Because he is stopped, his brakes aren’t depressed, so all he has to indicate that he is there are two dim, muddy little red tail-lights, hardly visible at all in the current environment.

Then picture me, coming hurtling over the crest of the hill at a speed of about 80 km/h (which admittedly is not hurtling but is still quick enough). Literally about 6 or so metres from the aforementioned obstacle, I finally spot the truck as I hurtle towards an imminent (and rather unexpected) collision. I slam on my brakes, the wheels lock, the car loses traction and I skid around the left of the truck, slamming the car back into the road and breathing one of the biggest sighs of relief I’ve experienced in a long, long time.

Thank God that there were no workers waiting for a lift or cyclists or runners on the shoulder of the road as there so often is. Thank God there was no rock or post or something similar that could have carved into the front of my wildly screeching Jetta and pushed me over the edge and into the cliff wall.

Again. It really isn’t a good idea to start off the morning with SUCH big a dose of pure adrenaline! :(