Emotional Thinking Blinds – Flies On The Windscreen

You know how much I like to drive my car. It is an impressive vehicle. It is fast, attractive and demonstrates to the world beyond just how superior I am to other road users as I surge past them with just the slightest pressure on the accelerator. Cocooned inside this metal shell I race from place to place in order to carry out my engagements. Gathering fuel in this place, ensuring a devaluation is doled out in that place and dropping by at the other place to open the passenger door and tempt you to clamber back in to the passenger seat with a winning smile and a reassurance that last time was a mistake. You remember last time don’t you? When I took you along the motorway and then dumped you there leaving you with a long walk back. How could you forget? You still have the blisters and the aching legs haven’t you? Well, climb in and allow me to ease your suffering. I promise I won’t leave you in the middle of the motorway again, distraught and facing a lengthy walk home. No, I am sorry about that. Why did I do that? Let’s not get into all that now, there is plenty to see andI would rather show you how good I can be than go over that old ground again. That was in the past and we both need to move on if we are going to make this work. I pat the leather seat invitingly as you hover by the passenger door. You look at it with a mixture of longing and wariness.

“You need to hurry up if you are getting in, there are plenty of others who want to sit there,”I observe as I look over your shoulder. You spin around and see several people, mainly women but some men, advancing towards you along the motorway. They are running and as they get nearer you can hear them shouting as they plead for me to wait. You stand for an instant and watch the nearing mob, limbs flailing as they hurtle towards us.

“They will soon be on you and they will trample you into the ground in order to get into here,” I warn.

This jolts you into action and you get into the car, slamming the door closed and pressing the lock button.

“Go, go!” you urge as the admiring mob gets ever closer. I smile to myself as I press down on the accelerator and we drive away leaving the disappointed mob stood in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes as they watch you and I race away across the empty motorway ahead of us. I turn and look at you and already I can see that you feel comfortable as you sink into the luxury of the passenger seat. You have slipped your worn down and scuffed shoes off allowing your sore and blistered feet to sink into the thick carpet which lines your side of the car. I hear you give a little sigh of contentment as your tilt your head back.

“Always feels good to get back in this car doesn’t it?” I ask.

You nod and reach out a hand towards me touching me on the arm.

“It is a beautiful day,” I remark as I nod my head towards the windscreen. You give a little gasp as the clouded horizon which existed only a few moments ago has somehow vanished and you are staring at the bright blue sky and a golden, blazing sun.

“Where did that come from?” you wonder aloud and look at me. I say nothing but let you reach your own conclusion about how everything is always better when you are with me.

“Are you thirsty? You look parched,” I comment and motion to a drink held in one of the cup holders next to you. You pick it up and suck the cool, delicious liquid through the straw as I continue to hurtle along the motorway. You gaze out of the window as the embankments which normally grip the motorway and hide your view of what is beyond have now disappeared. Instead, you are afforded a breathtaking view of the undulating countryside which rolls away to the snow-topped hills in the distance. The land is kissed by golden light, full trees dotted here and there, the whole scene idyllic and just as you always imagine the countryside to look. It is as if I can read your thoughts and show you what you want to see. You have always thought that. I appear to have some sixth sense which enables me to create the very scene or environment that delights you the most and accords with what you want to see. You missed that when you were trudging along that bleak and grey motorway beneath the leaden firmament.

You continue to gaze through the windscreen, marvelling at the scenery outside, the beauty and the serenity breath taking, along with the absence of anyone else. Your eyes are wide looking at the vast scene that unfolds beyond the windscreen as you enjoy the comfort of my ride. So transfixed are you by what you see outside of my car you fail to notice the dots and specks which are forming on the windscreen. You are oblivious to the flies that smash against the glass, their insignificant lives obliterated in an instant by my driving forward at such speed and with such intent. The insects never saw me coming, flying along, blissfully unaware of what was hurtling towards them and would wipe them out in an instant. More and more bloody smears coat the windscreen and you still do not see them as they begin to mount up. I keep glancing at you but you are so transfixed by the beauty outside that the increasing death toll under your nose is going unnoticed. I do not activate the windscreen wash nor the wipers preferring to keep this carnage in full view, yet this obvious massacre is not countenanced by you. I allow myself a little smile as my test confirms what I knew would be the case. Just like a fly on the windscreen you have little idea just how close you are to such danger, how your existence hangs in the balance and how it is all down to me.