We’ve covered the Ditherer and the Wannabe American in our previous blog. Today we’re going to cover two more road menaces, Gerrup Man and The Passenger.
I like to avoid cliches in my blogs and as I’m not writing this in the 1990s, I’m not going to be discussing White Van Man or Boy Racers. I am however going to discuss someone who could fall into either of those categories, Gerrup Man.
Gerrup Man is identified by his cheery greeting of “Gerrup” at anyone vaguely female he sees on his travels. Occasionally, if he is in the mood, the greeting is delivered with an additional beep of the horn. Ironically, scientists believe that if he got his horn beeped once in a while, he might not feel the urge to shout out so much.
He believes that he is carrying out a public service in providing compliments to women. Women generally think he is a dickhead.
Gerrup Man’s greatest fear is speaking to women and many accidents have been caused by him shooting the lights prematurely when a woman attempts to engage in conversation. Side effects of female engagement include sweating, speechlessness and soiling of undergarments.
He drives with his window down prior to the greeting but at the first sign of engagement, he will rapidly wind it up. He prefers traditional handles to electric windows as he believes the strong right wrist he has developed over the years is a lot quicker.
Gerrup Man is a relic of a bygone era and like a lot of relics, he smells like he has been underground for a number of years. He survives on a diet of milky tea, cold Pot Noodles and Birds Eye Steakhouse Grills. His heroes are Jeremy Clarkson, Jim Davison and that bloke with the funny hair who owns America.
If you spot Gerrup Man, be aware of sudden braking when he spots a female and then desperate acceleration or stalling if she responds. Like a chimpanzee flinging shit at his mates, he craves attention. Ignore him and he will eventually die out.
Gerrup Man cannot survive without an audience and that audience usually comes in the form of The Passenger.
Most drivers know how to behave in another person’s car but some just can’t help themselves. Worse still are the non drivers who tend to treat a friend’s car with the same contempt that most people would treat a cat that had shit in their garden.
Being a passenger is easy. Get in, shut up, get out when you get there. You may occasionally be required to engage in conversation or pass something to the driver but other than that, your life is simple. It’s amazing how many people can get it wrong.
First things first, the doors. They shut with the minimum of effort yet most passengers seem to think they have to be slammed as if it were a door last opened by Indiana Jones. When opening a door, check if the car is parked next to another one and try not to damage it. Don’t let the door swing open as if you are a herd of cattle escaping from an abbatoir.
Put your seatbelt on, it’s there for your safety and it is the law. Whilst we’re on about safety, unless you are a driving instructor, there are no brakes on the passenger side so don’t try and press them when you think the driver is going too fast.
Do not press any buttons, yes, especially that one with the skid marks and the red light. The music is entirely up to the driver’s discretion so don’t try and change it. If you don’t like the music you can always get out and walk whilst whistling your favourite tune.
Do not try and give directions unless you are expressly asked to do so. You couldn’t find your way to the fucking driving seat so don’t think you know your way around better than me.
Ask permission before bringing food and drink into somebody else’s car. Someone once rubbed a banana into the back seat of my Citroen AX. He was only two so he may have had an excuse, you don’t.
Getting pissed as a passenger is strictly forbidden unless written consent is given by the driver beforehand. If you plan to read a paper in the back seat, make sure it isn’t a broadsheet, the driver will occasionally need to see out of the back window.
Like any man with a sophisticated sense of humour, I find farting funny. Fart in my car on the other hand and you will discover that I have the power to lock all the windows and you will have to live with your filth whilst I am the only one breathing fresh air.
Most importantly of all, if you feel the need to lean over and beep the horn whilst shouting ‘Gerrup’ out of the window you will discover that, yes, my car does have an ejector seat.