Dinky Delight

I have a ‘’ granny mobile’’.  Not the the old wagon-type, more the scaling down, limited speed –for-granny-type.  Secretly I am profoundly proud of it.  My girls still fit in nicely in the back… mind you they are only 5 and 7, but still.  My 7 year old can fit her suitcase in at her feet… ok I admit…   i have to move the seat forward, but we fit… SNUGLY.  Oh and I do have space for my very important junk for- every-occasion filled handbag. I can’t really give any 1600 a go, even to overtake, I meen, my poor dinky will most probably fall apart at the wheels. I am of the personal opinion that it has attitude. Ok yes, my secret thoughts on this wavers, but when I stop my little dinky at the petrol pump, and when one of the petrol jocks FINALLY spots us… I do get an indescribable, spine tingling sensation and purest satisfaction when it fills up and the final tally stays under R230.  That’s when my aging cheeks feel rosier, my eyes sparkle and I gleam at the smug guy in the 2L BMW next to me with the thought that my R200 will most definitely get me further… ah yes, that is how we ordinary folk do it…

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