Easy Rider

His name is Tim. He’s British. Very polite. A little serious perhaps but so patient. He puts up with my occasional silliness even when I affectionately refer to him as Timmy, mimicking his “Southpark” character namesake (you know…Little handicapped Timmy). I don’t always listen to him though, but hey…That’s my prerogative as a woman. My parents appreciate him although it wasn’t always like this. Dad got jealous of the attention Tim was getting. Mom too had her doubts in the beginning and suggested I go out with American Sean. But Tim eventually won them over with his deep and soothing voice…Yep…Tim is my Personal Navigator…TomTomTim.

Tim and I are thick as thieves.Where ever I go, Tim tags along in my rented Fiat Punto. In the early days of my driving career (last month), it would get rather loud in the car. Both Mom and Dad liked to “instruct” me…Simultaneously on my driving. It became particularly counter productive when parking the car:

Mom: “Turn the wheel to the right. Wait! There’s a car coming behind us!”

Dad: “LEFT, LEFT, RADRIZZA (straighten), STOP!”

Tim: “You have reached your destination…”

Inevitably, Mom would argue with Dad about his instructions or his tone: “Roc…you’re making her nervous…Stop shouting!” To which Dad would respond: “I’M NOT SHOUTING. I’M RAISING MY VOICE OR ELSE WE’LL CRASH!” Adding to this cacophony, he’d unbuckle his seat belt which would activate a repetitive high pitched beeping sound.

At this point, my palms would get very moist and a sheen of perspiration would glisten on my forehead ( I refuse to sweat). My throat would get dry and in an advanced stage of delirium, a mirage would form in my mind. An Oasis of tall imaginary, seductive Gin & Tonic’s (Bombay Sapphire to be specific) would suddenly dangle before me. I could see myself lunging for this haven of Serenity, always just beyond my reach. In these ever increasing lapses of concentration, the car engine would shut down thus triggering yet another round of vocal parental “instructions”.

It was around that time that Mara started eating again. It almost happened over night. No more bullying her to eat. No more coaxing, pleading, tricking, ordering her to take a few more bites. She just did. When people enquire about her, I say she’s doing well and I literally knock wood. A silly superstition I know…but I can’t help it. And when there’s no wood to be found, I unconsciously tap my head. A peculiar yet frequent sighting for passers-by.

It was also around this time that Mara’s Obsession with Diamonds and Gold began. “Because”, said she while happily googling through numerous jewelry websites, “Diamonds and Gold are forever. THEY never get sick…”

P.s: SouthPark Timmy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThtQTIK3UFw