Today’s tale is dedicated to the Yellow Mitsubishi crew. Thanks for the adventure this weekend.
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This was a race. Mr Alani knew it and the truck driver knew it too. Races of this sort were usually short, with both racers having different objectives and the race being over when the driver of the smaller vehicle achieved his (or hers).
Mr Alani drove a fifteen-seater bus of unknown make. It must have once upon a time been of a particular brand but now had recycled parts and stolen pieces from so many junkyards that identifying the original brand was an impossible task. The truck driver drove an eighteen wheeler twice-and-a-half as high as Mr Alani’s pot-pourri of a bus.
Mr Alani’s simple objective in this race was to get past the truck. The objective of the truck driver was to keep this from happening for as long as possible. Sure, there could be only one winner, but when?
For over ten minutes, Mr Alani had darted and shaunted, horned and charged, all to no avail. The truck kept swinging from one lane to the next, sometimes dangerously, using his bumbum to block the bus from shooting beyond. At times, the truck driver wouldn’t bother moving to block the bus. An approaching vehicle occupying the other side of the two-lane road would force him to dart back behind the truck. But for how long more?
Mr Alani was getting frustrated and soon, something drastic would happen. At this point, it was easy to imagine one or both vehicles flying off the road and into a ditch or one slamming into the other resulting in a huge ball of flame and Mr Alani’s passengers had already begun to plead with him to “take it easy o” and “leave the lorry nah”. But all fell on deaf ears. And then the bus fell silent when Mr Alani finally broke free and raced toward the front of the truck which couldn’t possibly move as fast. That wasn’t the reason for the silence though. The silence was because everyone waited with bated breath as the bus charged towards a tractor which had occupied the other lane of the interstate and was now flashing it’s lights desperately at the oncoming vehicles, neither of which showed any signs of slowing.
It was close. Real close. So close that when Mr Alani swung sharply in front of the truck, with inches to spare from crashing into the tractor, there were no inches to spare on the other side and so his right tail light was sprinkled and spattered all over the road, causing even the truck to slow dramatically immediately following the small impact. Mr Alani didn’t slow down though, he just charged on with a small, victorious smile on his face till he mounted the next hill and could no longer see the diminishing truck in his rearview mirror.
It wouldn’t even be until he arrived at the bus park where his last few passengers would alight that he would check the extent of the damage to his vehicle.