The driver from hell

Wednesday

The roads in Georgia are narrow and rough.  The interpreter and I bounce around in the back seat like popcorn in a frying pan. The driver accelerates sharply then shifts the transmission to neutral and coasts awhile.  He seems to have no concept of slowing before hitting a pothole, only jerks quickly  the steering.  Brakes get applied suddenly for a stop and are held tightly until the car lurches backward in inverse reaction to impeding inertia.  He yells at other drivers although they can't hear from their cars.  But the scary part is passing trucks and busses on blind curves and blind hills.  He sometimes passes slower vehicles in callous opposition to oncoming traffic forcing the oncoming traffic off onto the shoulder.  Maybe its normal Georgian commandeering the road but it scared me enough to cinch up my seat belt and grip continuously a hand hold.  Not wanting to complain but realizing that I’m responsible for my own life, I finally snapped crossly to the interpreter that if he didn’t drive more safely I was getting out.  That accomplished a reduction of speed – I should have complained earlier.