my theory stands

young drivers aren't the problem on the roads because they're the worst drivers, they're dying on the roads because older dick heads are out there to kill them and when they're confronted with a difficult situation, they don't have the experience or skills to deal with it accurately.
today i went to uni to do group work, we had a quick little meeting and then i had to do some blogging because i realised i in fact had four blogs due today and not just the three as i had thought, so i had to do that extra one. doing that, tappety tap tap, then the others come back from an hour of vox pops, we watch the videos, i show them what i did for our presentation last friday, finish my blog and go to catch the train. the slowest train of all time. i get home 20 minutes late, which effectively equals 20 minutes late for work. rush home, get dressed in a split second, get in my car and head to work.
of course i'm stressed because i'm late for work and i've asked for more shifts and it doesn't look good if someone who's asked for more shifts can't even get to those shifts on time. but i've been late before and 20 minutes is nothing compared to some other people, and the fact that the speed limit in bacchus marsh barely gets above 50 km/h, i had lulled into acceptance of my lateness and accepted the fact that most people go down the street at about 20 km/h. there's a guy driving in front of me, one of these nervous breakers who put their brakes on for no reason and look for a corner for about a kilometer. he finds his corner... i'll illustrate this in pictures.

so the blue car is vincent and the green car in front of me has only just put his indicator on at this point. he's basically around the corner and only just decides to put his indicator on, but i'm late for work so i'm not mincing around to give way to the people coming out of the corner obviously because i am on the main road and i have the right of way.

so there goes my beloved vincent, taken away by a toe truck in a fountain of my tears, flashing police and fire brigade lights [called to clear away the mysterious fluid pouring from my broken car] and the shock stares of onlookers.
the idiot who didn't wait for me to go before he went around the corner could hardly speak english, thought i was either drunk or under age and he would be in the clear, didn't even want to call the police, but two women across the road who had come out of the shire hall for a cigarette and got me out of the car because i was still sitting in their crying, shaking and calling my dad, gave me a hug and told the guy to call the police because a crime had clearly happened and it needed to be reported.
i was pretty shaken and my breath-o-liser [i don't know how to spell that] was clear obviously because if you have noticed from reading this blog i hate people who break road rules because car accidents ruin lives and i would never drive under the influence, so the police exchanged our details and i was free to go and make a claim. mum said she thought the man was taken away by the police, but i don't know for sure, i was too shaken to notice, i just couldn't stop thinking of vincent's bonnet all wrinkled and leaking something and not starting and i don't think i'll ever be able to drive him again.
we had some good times me and vincent. i love that car. i know there was a lot of rubbish in it, but i did love that car, and the dried up flowers are the male_parental_unit's fault, and so is some of the mess. but i really relied on that car. i need him to get to work. i need him to go places i cant get to by train, which is most places from here. this is going to severely affect my life in a serious way and i am not looking forward to it.
also as i had a traffic collision on the way to work i am a shift down this week.
grrr. i hate the world.