08-12-2016 Terry Sandy

08 12 2016 Terry Sandy

The Pietermaritzburg years.

On an October day in 1973, I was driving my frail Vauxhall Viva, from Durban to Pietermaritzburg, when the second coming of Noah’s flood struck. The highway became a torrent and in spite of the valiant efforts of my windscreen wipers, I could barely see the road. I pulled to the left and slowed to a crawl, realizing that I’d be late for my appointment and that the glorious future I’d imagined that morning, was about to disappear into the gloom. My thinking must have been along the lines of ‘Things can’t get worse!’ when, of course, they did. The driver’s side windscreen wiper gave up the unequal struggle and I was reduced to driving by ear. My guardian angel said ‘Do the sensible thing, stop the car and wait for the rain to abate!’, whilst to my left, the devil whispered ‘Bugger it, take a chance!’ – I pressed blindly on.

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