I Don’t Want To Be An Aquapilot

I had one of the most terrifying experiences of my life on Tuesday night when my car ‘aquaplaned’ and went sideways.

I was driving home from Mr. Sparkle’s surprise birthday party (where I totally missed the cue to yell “SURPRISE!” – All I could do was join in at the end with a weird, vowel-heavy “AAAIIIIIIZE!” – my ONE chance to feel like I was finally in the loop of something and I blew it). It had been raining all evening; which combined with the dust storm that had hung in the air all day to give the landscape a sludgy, pasty brown look. The entire city looked like someone had just finished eating Neapolitan ice cream off it. The car was murky and wet, the trees were murky and wet, the buildings were murky and wet, the road was murky and wet…

…and Olympic swimming pool sized channel of water taking up 70% of the road was also murky and wet.

I didn’t spot it until I was nearly on top of it, and by then it was too late. The tyres hit the water, completely failed to hit the bitumen, and suddenly my car was Jesus.

I need to point out at this juncture that I have forgotten my own tax file number countless times. I have missed the birthday of every family member so far this year. I have lost so many pairs of sunglasses by absent-mindedly leaving them wherever I put them down that the CEO of Sunglass Hut considers me a threat to his revenue stream…

…and yet? The moment the Corolla hit the water I suddenly remembered that I was not supposed to brake. My brain, which until this point seemed incapable of nothing but retaining actor’s names, useless trivia and obscure rules of grammar; finally brought something useful to the table and threw up a life-saving defensive driving technique. 

So I didn’t brake. I tried to “steer into” the slide (I have no idea what this means, I just remember it being a conscious thought) and hoped for the best.

The fact that my innards are not now smeared across the Nissan Tiida that was to my immediate right at the time should indicate that I got what I hoped for. My car did turn ninety degrees, but kept moving forward in its own lane, and when it finally hit bitumen again I was able to straighten up (after a violent swerve into the next lane, which was thankfully empty).

In the middle of the slide, when I was at the most helpless, I was almost convinced that I was going to hit something and be killed. I was also horrified that I might hit someone else, furious that I didn’t spot the water patch sooner, and disappointed that my last meal would be a ‘Strawberry Jubilee’ from the Pancake Parlour. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life.

I hope you never experience the horror of aquaplaning; which is why I’m starting a campaign against it.

My first step? The abolishment of the name “aquaplaning”. It sounds like a fun, sporty activity! Like something you could do if you attached wings to a jetski. And to me, attaching wings to a jetski is totally something I’d want to do. We can’t have people attempting to aquaplane because they think it’s something cool.

But what to call it instead? I initially went with “death-slide” – but that sounds more like a lucrative film franchise starring Jason Statham than a possibly-fatal automobile mishap. Then I came up with “splash-coasting”, but that sounds like one of the challenges on Wipeout.

I realised I needed a name that was frightening, without being thrilling. Shocking, but not titillating. Scary AND offputting, with no possible way of sounding appealing. And that’s when it hit me:

Car Herpes.

No one wants that, right? Good! Drive carefully in the rain, and watch for puddles – or you’ll get Car Herpes!