Confessions of a younger driver.....
Posted: Wed Mar 13, 2024 12:18 pm
Decided to make a new thread instead of posting this in the ebay thread....
Share your stories.
So this was originally posted in response to @dinny_g talking about getting use of his boss's 4.2 A8 every weekend. Nice car to have a loan of every weekend as a youngster!
This gave me the heebies as it reminded me of an incident I have shared before : being a youngster and borrowing the MD's Audi 100 for a local-ish business meeting. The ONE thing he said to me was "No smoking in it". Sure thing.
So I went to the meeting, and on my return I cleverly thought "Ach - If I keep the window open, how will he ever know"
Lit up fag and took the slip road for the Erskine Bridge. At that time there was still a toll charge. Heading in the direction I was going required that I crossed the bridge and then hit the tolls before being allowed to exit.
Need 30p (from memory) in change. Which is in my left trouser pocket. I realise that - with a fag held in my right paw, I don't have enough hands to smoke, steer the car, and get money out. Luckily it was an auto, so rather than ditch the fag, I decide to hold the cigarette in my mouth - which I never liked to do - smoke goes right in your eyes .
So I am now approaching the toll booths and starting to slow down. The bridge is a 50 limit now but wasn't at the time, so I am slowing from around 70mph - foot moved onto the brake pedal. My left hand is fishing in my left trouser pocket for some coins, when the fag smoke does indeed sting my eyes, and whilst I squint and blink, I manage to drop the lit fag from my lips. It falls onto my crotch. And then drops between my legs onto the seat base
There then follows what felt like 30 seconds of serious seat-dancing (with much swearing) as I wrestle my left hand from my trouser pocket so I can use it to fish for the cigarette, but it's rolled back towards my arse and I can't grab it without lifting my cheeks off of the seat base. Which has a fairly significant impact on my planned smoothe braking phase. After an age of wriggling, hammering wildly at the brake pedal, and veering around as I try to also use my right hand on the seat base to lift my body up. I locate the fag end, throw it out the window, and manage to bring the car to a halt at the end of the toll booth queue, without running into the car ahead. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Adrenaline rush.... WHOOOSH!
Pay the fee and pull up on the hard shoulder just at the exit. Jump out. No damage to my clothing, but there is a small fag burn on the fabric of the seat base. Black cloth so it doesn't immediately jump out visually, but you can see it if you look, and you can definitely feel it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUck. FUcK. FUCK! FUCK!
Slink back into work and leave the keys on his desk.
Panic significantly for next 24hrs.
Panic only marginally less significantly for following 3 days.
Start to believe I may have got away with it, but I am conscious he only lets a few people use his car, it doesn't get borrowed every day, and only a fraction of them are smokers. When he does notice, the list of potential offenders is small. Is it better to fess up if challenged Or just deny all knowledge Aaargh. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Every time he calls me or looks at me, I think he's about to raise the topic.
And then - after about a week and a half I see him arriving in a shiney new A6. Some excitement from colleagues as it's a pretty newly released model.
PRAISE THE LORD!
Lesson learned.
Share your stories.
So this was originally posted in response to @dinny_g talking about getting use of his boss's 4.2 A8 every weekend. Nice car to have a loan of every weekend as a youngster!
This gave me the heebies as it reminded me of an incident I have shared before : being a youngster and borrowing the MD's Audi 100 for a local-ish business meeting. The ONE thing he said to me was "No smoking in it". Sure thing.
So I went to the meeting, and on my return I cleverly thought "Ach - If I keep the window open, how will he ever know"
Lit up fag and took the slip road for the Erskine Bridge. At that time there was still a toll charge. Heading in the direction I was going required that I crossed the bridge and then hit the tolls before being allowed to exit.
Need 30p (from memory) in change. Which is in my left trouser pocket. I realise that - with a fag held in my right paw, I don't have enough hands to smoke, steer the car, and get money out. Luckily it was an auto, so rather than ditch the fag, I decide to hold the cigarette in my mouth - which I never liked to do - smoke goes right in your eyes .
So I am now approaching the toll booths and starting to slow down. The bridge is a 50 limit now but wasn't at the time, so I am slowing from around 70mph - foot moved onto the brake pedal. My left hand is fishing in my left trouser pocket for some coins, when the fag smoke does indeed sting my eyes, and whilst I squint and blink, I manage to drop the lit fag from my lips. It falls onto my crotch. And then drops between my legs onto the seat base
There then follows what felt like 30 seconds of serious seat-dancing (with much swearing) as I wrestle my left hand from my trouser pocket so I can use it to fish for the cigarette, but it's rolled back towards my arse and I can't grab it without lifting my cheeks off of the seat base. Which has a fairly significant impact on my planned smoothe braking phase. After an age of wriggling, hammering wildly at the brake pedal, and veering around as I try to also use my right hand on the seat base to lift my body up. I locate the fag end, throw it out the window, and manage to bring the car to a halt at the end of the toll booth queue, without running into the car ahead. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Adrenaline rush.... WHOOOSH!
Pay the fee and pull up on the hard shoulder just at the exit. Jump out. No damage to my clothing, but there is a small fag burn on the fabric of the seat base. Black cloth so it doesn't immediately jump out visually, but you can see it if you look, and you can definitely feel it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUck. FUcK. FUCK! FUCK!
Slink back into work and leave the keys on his desk.
Panic significantly for next 24hrs.
Panic only marginally less significantly for following 3 days.
Start to believe I may have got away with it, but I am conscious he only lets a few people use his car, it doesn't get borrowed every day, and only a fraction of them are smokers. When he does notice, the list of potential offenders is small. Is it better to fess up if challenged Or just deny all knowledge Aaargh. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Every time he calls me or looks at me, I think he's about to raise the topic.
And then - after about a week and a half I see him arriving in a shiney new A6. Some excitement from colleagues as it's a pretty newly released model.
PRAISE THE LORD!
Lesson learned.