Chapter Three
“There it is,” I say, pointing to the road sign as my mother navigates the narrow streets of Rondebosch in the ‘piece of crap’ I’ve decided to name The Tin Man. “Toll Road. That’s the one.”
“Oh, finally,” she says with a small laugh. Her relief mirrors my own. An entire day in the car with her yesterday was painful. She took the first driving shift, so I was able to sleep through the early hours of the morning. After I woke up, she insisted on driving further because she didn’t feel tired at all. I told her I need practice, and what better way to get it than the 1600 kilometres between Durban and Cape Town, but she told me to relax a little longer. So that left me in the passenger seat with my legs wrapped around a cooler bag wondering what to talk about and feeling anythin
