I did a fair bit of travelling with my sister and my parents when I was young. Some would say this kind of experience would be enlightening to a child but the reality was I spent all that time in the car fighting a vicious and prolonged battle against my older sister. She is 2.5 years older than me and by the time she’d reached the age of 14, I had simply ceased to exist. I was a gnat that required slapping from time to time. I would take the abuse with a minimum of whining but every so often I would lash out like a cornered baboon. One such event occurred when parents rented a small hatchback car and, perhaps in the interest of science and/or entertainment, had confined my sister and me to the rear seat. One thing led to another and before too long, a protuberant leg started poking me in the ribs. My sister was staring straight ahead out the window but was doing her best to dislodge one of my kidneys. The red mist descended and in a fit of rage I swivelled in the seat, arched my back and then exploded with my legs. To say I kicked the shit out of my sister is an understatement. I belted her so hard that she flew across the seat, hit the door, which then opened, and started falling out of the car which was travelling at about 75km/h at the time. I lunged across and pulled her back in to the chorus of screams from my parents.
“What the hell just bloody well happened?”
My sister looked me in the eye.
“The back door just opened, Dad. This car is a piece of crap.”