I've been privileged to ride in cars throughout my life to date, and it's always amazing because it helps me arrive at my destination faster and at a more convenient medium than when I walk or ride a bike. During that period, I've had fun and experienced some crazy time in the car, but my craziest experience goes way back to my elementary school days, and today I'll love to see you all about it.
During my junior secondary school days in Ajegunle Apapa, Lagos, my school was very far from my house, and this made me wake up early every day so I could get myself prepared and leave the house for school before 6 a.m. Funny enough, despite leaving that early, I still arrive at school late on many occasions and am mostly held alongside latecomers to get punished for our lateness.
It wasn't like I usually walk down to school; in fact, my grandparents usually give me a transport fare that's enough to take me to and from school, but as a young boy, I'd rather spend the money and trek down to school so I can make use of the money for other things. While my grandparents won't know if I arrive at school early or not, they will know if I arrive home late after school because they know when we close and when I'm supposed to arrive at home if I take the car.
But since I mostly spend my transport fare, one thing I usually do to arrive home on time is jump in the back of a slow-moving pickup truck that's driving towards where I stay. This is something most other students in my school do, so I joined them, and in many cases, this has really helped, as I tend to arrive home on time because these pickup truck drivers usually slow down for us to jump in, and whenever anyone amongst us wants to come down, they'll slow down a little so we can jump down on motion because they can't stop in such places.
Well, without beating around the bush, things were moving fine until one faithful day, when, just like every other day, I'd spent my transport fare and was alongside other students, walking gradually homeward but also on the lookout for a pickup truck to pass by, so we could chase after it, jump in, and follow it till it arrived at our various locations.
This particular day, no pickup truck was forthcoming, and most of us had walked several kilometers before we saw a pickup truck racing down the road at a very fast pace. We tried to wave it down to stop, but it refused, so we just ran and ran after it until it was held up in small traffic along the route. This gave us the opportunity to catch up with it and jump in.
Immediately after the traffic was gone, the driver started racing down the road again, and believe me, the speed was so fast that I was so afraid I might fall down and die. The driver doesn't mind if he's driving towards a bump or a pothole; regardless of what's ahead of him, he'll drive through at a fast pace, which has caused us to be thrown up on many occasions at the back of the pickup truck.
The scariest thing that happened was when some students arrived at their destination and wanted to come down. We kept begging the driver to slow down, but he gave us no audience. Coming at his fast pace, we encountered some traffic congestion that made him slow down a little. This gave some students time to jump down while others couldn't, because what I meant by slowing down for traffic was still at high speed.
At another junction, when some other students tried to jump down, I literally watched one of my fellow students who jumped down from the back of the pickup truck get hit by another car coming behind us. I was terrified, and that made me so afraid that I immediately concluded that I wouldn't ever spend my transport fare any more. For the situation on the ground, I also made up my mind not to jump down if he didn't slow down or if I'm not sure I'll be safe when I go down.
And that's how this crazy driver drove me and some other students who were too afraid to jump down several kilometers away from our house. To make it much more understandable, the driver drowned me from Ijora Badia in Ajegunle Apapa to Mile 2 in Lagos before he was faced with a serious gridlock that gave us the opportunity to quickly jump down from his truck and run to the other side of the road to seek help.
Never had I met such a driver before, and I would never want to experience such a situation in my life again because, on crossing to the other side, we don't have any money on us and have to just stand by the roadside and beg moving vehicles going back to Ajegunle to carry us along. This wasn't easy to get, and on a normal day when I would have arrived at home by 4 p.m., I got home around 7 p.m. in the evening. I met the absence of my grandparents, who were said to have left the house in search of me.
When they got back home, they were both furious and thankful—furious that I made them afraid and thankful that I'm safe and sound. They inquired about what happened, but I dare not tell them the truth; otherwise, I'll be damned, so I lied that I misplaced my transport fare, and in the process of walking home and looking for shortcuts to arrive home on time, I got lost and couldn't find my way back until some people guided me back on the right track.
Although this story was somehow to them because they know I'm familiar with the route, I guess the stress they've passed through while searching for me made them tired and didn't ask further questions than to ask me to take my bath, eat, and sleep.
That's all about my craziest car experience. I hope you enjoyed the read. Thanks for your time. Have a wonderful day.
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