Round the Bend

I love my car. It is beautiful. Powerful, sleek and impressive. Just like me. The exterior is anthracite black and the windows tinted black which gives it a sinister appearance which is rather apt I suppose. I enjoy driving and especially since I am an excellent driver. My car is a fantastic instrument by which I am able to manipulate you.

To begin with I spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning it. I could of course get someone else to do this for me but I know how much it irritates you when on a glorious sunny afternoon you want to drive out somewhere for the day and all I do is spend it on the drive washing, waxing and polishing my car. You come outside and remonstrate with me, which is all good fuel and only causes me to spend longer cleaning the alloys before moving on to the interior. I manage to provoke an argument with you because you wanted to use the Hoover (you should know by now that only I am allowed to Hoover) inside the house but I have commandeered it for a lengthy period of time as I scrupulously chase after each speck of dust inside my car.

I also engage in long conversations about its performance and how it is running. I know you find this boring and when you are trying to tell me about something, I will continue to dominate the conversation by talking about my car. The irritation you express through your sighs and eye-rolling amuses me no end.

I am naturally a brilliant driver and have demonstrated this on days out on race tracks as I have taken various high performance vehicles out for a spin leaving you stranded on the trackside bored to tears. The occasional temper tantrum you throw when I tell you we are going out for the day, only to arrive at one of the race tracks enables me to demonstrate just how selfish you are and that you have no consideration of the things that I like to do. However, it is when we are in the car together that my vehicle’s potential as an instrument of manipulation is truly realised. I drive aggressively, tail gating the car in front, flashing my lights to get that car to move aside and gesticulating at the incompetent buffoons who have the audacity to be driving when I am. The reactions of the other drivers, from fear to anger all provide me with fuel, but it is your pleas for me to slow down as I hurtle along a country lane or your scream as we screech to a halt behind a lorry that really do it for me. The aggression in my driving provides me with an opportunity to demonstrate how superior I am on the roads and motorways. My vehicle is better, faster and more expensive than your scrapheap so move aside right now. At the traffic lights an admiring glance from another driver, especially if she is female, will please me no end and irritate you. I will purposefully drive at the same speed as the other vehicle flashing my winning smile at the other driver as she looks back grinning whilst we drive alongside one another.

Should someone not give way or cut me up I will chase them and do so until they stop, be it at home or their destination. I will leap from the car and berate them at traffic lights whilst they are stationery, smashing my fist on their window and kicking their wing as they grip the steering wheel in terror. How dare they drive like that near me? I return to my car, power raging through my body as I have put them in their place and find you sobbing with fear after I pursued this driver relentlessly. The driver’s reaction and your reaction fuelling me deliciously.

I use my car as a bolt hole, often sitting in it and listening to the cricket on the radio or an interesting radio play as you knock on the window trying to get my attention. I ignore you and you stalk around the car, fuming. I know you want to scratch it or dent it but you know better than to do anything like that to my precious car. I will walk away from you and get in the car and drive off leaving you stranded. This is a powerful way of letting you know that you are in the wrong. I park where I want and throw away the parking tickets or abuse the traffic wardens, accusing them of jealousy when they try to give me a ticket. I speed everywhere as I am not to be delayed, it is my time and my journey that are important.

I enjoy suddenly pulling over in the car and demanding you pleasure me. You always comply and as you lower your head I grin at my power over you as I select one of my favourite pieces of music and press down on the accelerator as we drive off. Such is my ability, I can drive at high speed even whilst you attend to me with your mouth. I am truly the king of the road. I will have you over the bonnet and then scold you for leaving hand prints on the polished metal, giving me a wonderful opportunity to criticise you after a seemingly intimate act. Of course, when I have you splayed across the bonnet, skirt hitched up and hair scattered across it, I do not see you beneath me as I thrust and buck. No, I am enjoying congress with my vehicle. We are merging together, two beautiful and powerful creatures that truly complement one another.

You are never allowed to drive my car. It is mine and only I am able to use it to frustrate you, anger you, alarm you and terrify you. It is my black bombshell that is there to draw emotional reactions from you and those around us, to serve my need for fuel. Just like me, my car does not provide many miles to the gallon and needs frequent refuelling, but then anything of quality is always high maintenance isn’t it?


21 thoughts on “Round the Bend”

  1. Yes, Lesser ExN #1 was a car guy. But rather than one special car, he’d dump money into a continuous string of project cars. Inevitably they’d wind up in the junkyard or abandoned somewhere. For him they had to be sticks, always, and he drove like a maniac. He’d do so especially while we were fighting, specifically to scare me.

    ExN #2 I didn’t get to know as well, didn’t see him drive crazy or anything. He had one special edition car he was very proud of. Walked me around it and pointed out all the special details and numbering and all that before I even got in. It was an automatic but he exhibited control while driving in different ways.

  2. I loved this! I laughed out loud reading it. I love reading your posts. When I start feeling sorry for myself, I read a couple of your articles and feel better. This article really did make me laugh out loud! I don’t know why, I suddenly feel very different . I think this put things into perspective for me. I’m not sure but thank you for putting this out there!

  3. R u gonna triangulate me with that friend)))))
    Common. Hahha
    Anyway u made me laugh as well.

    And thanks for the blog: since january i started and finished my days with it. It was my air.

      1. Dear DP, HG, MN, author of this blog, books, utube and simply a bastatd in an ordinary life. I feel good naming things and events by their nature.
        So thank you for ur careness but i accept u as a defective person. And so it will be.

        In case i use any other name i always mean a defective person.

  4. I meant: do u interact with new people with a default purpose to make those people like you = enjoy interaction with u?
    Coz my observation of ur answers to me and to others here (as well as answers of HG to blog followers): it looks like the purpose if interaction is to provoke positive emotions of blog followers regarding this blog and MNcs here.

    Anyway, it was just a thought which came to me: that probably when we first meet MNs they behave in that manner to the purpose we like them. Is it correct?

    1. F&R I suspect Yo believes you are trying to seduce people, you scallywag, all this light and love is just a cover really isn’t it, go on, admit it?!!

      1. Update: although this observation was mostly about u, dear defective person, coz it s what U do here with blog followers. Both of u actually.

      2. I am more about Empathy- truth, which is spun from self love, and further how this is turned out into the world at all levels. Genuine reciprocity ect ect ect. I agree with you HG in that I do believe that Yo believes that, which is Yo’s choice.

  5. The conclusion is: if u r unhappy from actions of another purpose it is because he/she wants u to be unhappy.
    So we need to listen to ourselves:the emotion produced from interaction. If it s not what we want to feel, then cut the source of that emotion.
    (Previously having an open discussion with ur partner point by point. The thing is woth defective person this discussion is not possible.
    So if discussion is not possible, move on)

    Looks like an easy rule. Difficult to imlement tough when u love that bastard/defective man and it s too late.

    1. Hello Yo. You share some insightful perspectives here and show that it can be a difficult journey towards health, however it is completely possible.

      1. Hahha)) thank you dear FaR. For providing me recognition although i dont need it).
        Is it a default behaviour/purpose of all narcs to make all ppl around like them? 😉 is ot the purpose of the message?)

      2. I am not understanding what you say here : Is it a default behaviour/purpose of all narcs to make all ppl around like them?😉 is ot the purpose of the message?)

  6. Yes!!! Super well described that relationship with the car!! And they do make men and some women feel powerful/sexy correspondingly.
    Spending a sunny afternoon cleaning the car, would eventually frustrate my desires of spending a sunny afternoon together doing something nicer that cleaning a car…
    This special relationship with the car I understand very well …. Its interesting very interesting on how this is so significant to some people.

    HG what happens if you loose your driving liscence for speeding ir making a fault and you would not be able to drive for some time and have to change to bicycle or train temporarily? 😂😂

    Again excellent described the passion for the motorized object! I understand it even better now than the first time I read it where there was a funny discussion on with KAT on how the car is used to replace some male body part.. Better said extend it 😂😂😂

    Have a very nice day HG. ⛽️⛽️ 😘. Thanks for posting.

  7. Oh dear god, my mother and her car. Presently she drives a white Buick (there’s also my father’s Chevy suburban, but she doesn’t actually let him drive that). I’d love to say my mother is a brilliant driver…well, she THINKS she is, and if parking too far from the curb was an Olympic event, she’d have a bunch of medals draped around her neck. But she likes control & nobody else can drive.

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