stranger danger

Whilst huffin and puffin to work on my crappy push bike is my prefered commute, sometimes I leave the deadly treadly at home and take my car.

I drive a 85 Honda Civic with a sticker on the rear window that reads “Muscle Machine: 0 – 100 in 10 minutes” (The geezer who owned it before me must have been a frustrated body builder with low libido) . If I dont drive my car more then once a week the carby seizes up on me and dies at traffic lights. Thus on mornings when I got to bed later then 930pm and had a few bevoirs the nite before, the Muscle Machine gets a run to Lilyfield where I park to catch the light rail to work.

Yesterday on the tram ride back to Lilyfield, I received a text from an unfamiliar number. The message read “You looked rugged up!”. Granted I was swathed in boots, coat and a jolly thick scarf, but it was freezing and I feel the cold dreadfully. Thinking that someone I know is on the tram and playing silly buggers, I spin around and stare down the other passengers behind me. Noone registers. A minute later I get another message: “Bet that scarf is warm…”. Another round of face recognition proves fruitless. Right. Time for decisive action. I shoot back “Show yourself stranger!”. The response takes a little while to filter through “On tram going other way…spotted the hawke eye…going ryde way for nun’s bday…see you sooner then you see me…”. Fuckin riddles to me.

In retrospect I have come to the conclusion that the offender is probably a friend whose number is one of the many I’ve culled from my phone of late. I’m bored of making efforts with friends who don’t wanna hang out with me.