Next time he buys you a car with 'adjustable' seats, reject it! It's a trap.
The other day, I had the silver opportunity to take a male friend to shop for a car. I say silver because it was not my car, had it been my car going to be shopped for, then that would have automatically been a golden opportunity.
I am not into cars and I still do not know why he chose me to escort him yet he knows very well about my relationship with cars. The only time I ever got concerned about cars was when one of my exes accused me of stealing his car's carburetor. Can you imagine? Yet I had spent the night in his arms!
We woke up in the morning only for us to find his car lying on its belly minus all the tyres with the bonnet wide open like a crocodile sunbathing. I stood there looking at him in pity wondering who could have stolen my man's tyres - only for him to turn to me and shout, "Beryl, najua ushauza hizo tyre, nirudishie carburetor." Ahem, that is the day I used all the bundles I had trying to Google everything about a carburetor and its importance to women as I tried to find out why I was a prime suspect.
Anyway, that aside, Tony and I drove into a car bazaar and within minutes, we were looking at different cars. He asked me what car I coveted and I quickly said Datsun. That is the only car I grew up around and since it never failed my parents, I had no choice but to stand by it all my life.
To my future husband, if you are reading this, I know I have mentioned Datsun but please steer off that make if you ever decide to gift me with a car, buy me something that ends with the word 'class'. I am told there is S class and E class. My favorite letter is 'B' so try and make it B class if possible.
If you are not planning to ever gift me with something that moves on fours and doesn't breathe, then consider your marriage proposal rejected in advance, don't bother proposing because I am not moving from Datsun to using my legs. Thank you in advance.
Before I was derailed by the thought of my future ex-husband, I was telling you about our shopping spree with my friend Tony. While I was walking around with him thinking what matters most in a car was the engine, he was busy adjusting seats inside every car to see how far the seats can lie flat and how stable the car was while stationary.
Really? Who bothers about the stability of a stationary car unless they are planning to relocate to that place where hurricanes with female names frequent? I kept asking him why he was bothered by the seats and the stability but he just kept answering me in mother-tongue while whispering, "Gari nyaka gwedhi," meaning a car must be a blessing to you.
I did not understand why he was whispering yet 'blessings' was something to be proud of. I thought he probably had a pastor with whom he was planning to go on a road trip using the same car and the pastor loved adjusting his seat towards the back for comfort. I marveled at how blessed I was to have a friend who cared about blessings.
That was until we left the bazaar, my people. Tony is the devil's advocate! All along, this man was looking for a car with adjustable seats and enough space to crucify women! The stability was to ensure the car did not play along to their music as they beat their drums from here to...no, I am not going to say Timbuktu. From here to Antananarivo through Mesopotamia then cross the Mississippi river and back!
Tony, next time just buy a bed, fix skaters at the bottom and peddles on the sides then cycle your way to blessings. Leave me alone Tony, and I did not say its Mochama, I swear I did not!