Spit For Spat...

Remember Me telling You All about the Ute with the busted-arse gearbox that Hubby and I bought?

Well it's fixed...

I paid for it on my credit card. That's okay. I consider it Our's anyway.

I arranged for Twink to help me collect it from the Garage because Hubby doesn't have a driver's licence; he's never held one. Not unless you count the Learner's Permit he had when he was eighteen. And I'm not.

How did he lose it, I hear you ask?

By stealing his Father's work car and crashing it into a traffic light. When he was drunk. The police only caught him because he went back for his packet of cigarettes. He went to court and was disqualified from holding a licence for nine months. And this was sixteen years ago...

I remember the first time I let my Hubby drive my car. Actually; it was my Mother's car that my older Sister and I had the use of so we could drive ourselves up to feed our horses- but that's neither here nor there. The fact was he wasn't a good driver then. And it's My opinion that He still isn't.

To be fair- He hasn't had much experience; occasionally He'll drive down to the shops (about two kilometres) on a Sunday morning to get the paper or cigarettes; but for the most part, once his Mother stopped chauffeuring him around it sort of became my job. Oh okay; he used to ride his push-bike to work or to the Pub but after a few too many beers it was always Me who drove down to collect them both. And ever since he started working further from home the push-bike became redundant. I've been taking him to and from work for the last ten years. With a few exceptions.

Having no licence didn't stop him from buying the Magna. Or the Kawasaki dirt bike. Or the Katana death-trap. Or the Ute. They have all been registered in my name because you need to hold a licence to transfer registration from one owner to the next; so it would all come down on My head if he chooses to ride/drive these vehicles while unlicensed or drunk. This is the point He fails to Get.

Trouble is...once he purchases these vehicles there is very little I can do to stop him from taking the keys and driving them away. And this is precisely what happened on Monday afternoon.

I'd arranged for Twink to come and collect the Ute with me; his car's brakes are on the blink so I told him he should ask Hubby for a lend. But Hubby had other ideas. He told me he was going to drive it home via the shop to get some oil.

He went straight to the Pub. Just like I knew he was going to. Just like he drove the Magna to the pub the first day he bought it- not that he remembered driving it home or crashing into those people. That little escapade of his cost us a fortune in court fines and solicitor's fees. The Judge even told him if they saw him up on the same charges again He might as well pack his toothbrush next time.

Little Son was with us as he had been sent home sick from school; Hubby had called me earlier to say that the school had rung up and wanted him collected from sick-bay- so after I paid the mechanic I drove home and waited while little Son watched a video. An hour. Then I called. The noise of the poker machines in the background was a dead giveaway. I said Something Like...

"I thought you said you were going to buy oil. You didn't did you?"

Him: I was just passing the Pub and saw Fido's car there so I stopped in for a quick couple. I always go this way."

(NB The way He went was Not on the most direct way home; in fact He'd gone a long way out of his way. The Truth is he'd taken the day off work because he was still hungover from the weekend- while I had worked the morning- and because he would have known Twink was there.

"Fucking forget it. Just get yourself some ham for your sandwiches tommorrow".

And then I hung up. That was at three thirty.

Six thirty he comes in. I was on the phone and cooking dinner. Once I got off I interrogated him about his actions. Why He said he was going to buy oil when he clearly hadn't had that intention in the first place.

Him: What's with your fucking Attitude? This is why I stayed at the Pub for this long.

I tried not to let him turn it back onto Me...

"Can't you See? That I don't Want an unlicenced driver who's been drinking behind the wheel of a car I've got registered in My Name? "

Apparently Not.

It got Stupid and Nasty for a while. As it always does.

"On the First Day. Again. If you want your "Little Piece Of Freedom" why won't you get off your arse and get your licence?"

Him: You drive after you've been drinking.

"At least I've got a licence to lose. I don't have a criminal record."

(NB He hates it when I'm right...)

On and On it went.

"Just admit it; You never had Any intention of going to buy oil this afternoon. Did you?"

Him: You've got no idea of What I intended on doing this afternoon. I stayed away longer because of your attitude on the phone.

"Tell Me I'm Wrong, then".

Dumb silence.

"See? You Can't".

It was a statement.

Him: Why are you such a fucking Bitch?

"You can't handle that I'm right".

As a last resort I took the keys from the hook and waved them in his face. Then I hid them. When he asked for them I told Him that I would be driving him to work in the morning. He went to bed with the shits. Big Time.

Fast forward to the following afternoon.

I was late picking him up. Little Son was home again sick and we'd both fallen asleep on the couch watching Fairy Tale Theatre. I drove like a demon so as not to be too late; and all things considered was only five minutes later getting him than what I would usually. He rang when I was on the bridge.

Him: I finish at three thirty you know.

"Yeah; I know. Little Son was sick"

(NB this was true. He spewed again on the way home)

He hung up. Two minutes later I arrived. Collected him. Then; driving home...

Little Son: Ive been sick

Him: I know. And If Mummy had let me drive the car you wouldn't have had to be here.

"Has this been your intention all along? To keep this car and drive it? I thought you bought it to do it up and sell it at a profit so we could pay off some of the personal loan we had for XIP?"

Blah Blah Blah.

He asked for some money and I told him I hadn't been to the Bank because Little Son had been sick on the couch all day; and because I hadn't realised that He had taken the hundred dollars left in the cupboard until the last moment.

Him: So are you going to the Bank?

"I guess I have to. Because you didn't even buy oil out of that hundred dollars, did you? You spent it all at the Pub".

Truth be Told?

I'd love it if I didn't have to drive his ungrateful arse around all day every day...

I'd love it if He showed the same initiative I had at sixteen and get a licence...

I do realise that He probably never will.

And If He doesn't give a shit- then why the Fuck should I?