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One Headlight and a Dangling Bumper Bar.

Every time I drive I wonder if I’m going to die.

You may look back ironically in 6 months and say, well he did mention something about this.

You know why I raise this.

Because my car has been sitting in the parking spot for the last 3 months and hasn’t moved an inch.

I tend to walk everywhere. Wherever humanly possible that is.I am planning on taking a road trip over the break.

Largely because I have the freedom to do so.

And I just need to GET ME OUT OF HERE Melbourne feeling.I’m planning to drive in the Victorian regional areas.

Looking through a map, I came across the wonderful town of Nhil.

I was intrigued, so looked it up.

Some of the highlights of Nhil:

- The pinball museum

- The local park

And, most importantly, - the Nhil swamp.

It’s my kind of place.

Before I drive, let alone road trips, I have a ritual.

I color coordinate my clothes to see which ones I’m going to die in. If there is blood spatter will this make me look fat or pale, or generally unattractive.

This is true. My feeling is that every time I’m going to drive, I think I might die.

Funnily enough I did get my license on the first try - after many, many months of counselling to ease me in to the driver’s seat.

So I think this thought came from Albert Camus.

When I was a teenager I read the stranger. On the penguin paperback cover there was a bio of Albert Camus. It was morbid but amazing. It listed his exploits as a writer. And in the end, Albert Camus died in a car crash. He was supposed to take the train to Paris, but decided to drive instead. They found the train tickets in his pocket. How glamorous. Talk of a 1,000 ways to die. That’s all class and elegance, pathos and performance. It is sad and tragic, of course.

So whenever I am about to launch off in that death trap, I try to dress nicely - much better than usual. Just so when they are leverage me out of the car, my hair will be done, I’ll have a quizzical but satisfied look on my face, and something special in my pocket.

I hope that hasn’t left you feeling morbid. It is a story of glamour and old style celebrity.

Thanks for letting me share another one of my quirks with you.

To looking good :-)DB

ps. I can’t believe people don’t need to wear significant helmets, protective armour and steel toe boots to drive. You do need to wear a wafer thin-liner on your face, for virtually zero risk, to protect against a dangerous sniffle. And yet you can drive at 100km per hour in a singlet, slip-ons, and music blaring. The actuaries must all have PTSD.

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