Background: I drive a rather large BMW saloon car. This is not half as flashy as it sounds, it's really old and almost worthless. I bought it off my dad who was going to scrap it, mostly because my mother had managed to destroy most of the bodywork (way to use parking sensors, Ma). However, I decided, since my commute is a 120 mile-round trip, I would buy this tank and thus protect myself a little from the wandering lane discipline of lorries.
Anyways, this morning I parked at work as usual and as I got out of the car a distinctly alarming old man sidled up to me and said 'that's a very big car for such a little girl! I'm surprised you can drive that thing!'
Yeah, the miracles of power steering. Oh, and yes, I do a lot of presses at the gym. Oh, and also, I could snap you in two you creepy sexist!
I am not at my most forgiving in the morning.
Anyways, this morning I parked at work as usual and as I got out of the car a distinctly alarming old man sidled up to me and said 'that's a very big car for such a little girl! I'm surprised you can drive that thing!'
Yeah, the miracles of power steering. Oh, and yes, I do a lot of presses at the gym. Oh, and also, I could snap you in two you creepy sexist!
I am not at my most forgiving in the morning.




That's one hellofa commute!
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