May I sleep-you Lewis Hamilton wannabe?

May someone please tell me why any supposedly sane-minded driver would stop for a refill at a filling station in the wee hours of the morning, and find the need or urge to rev up his engine, skid mercilessly, hoot continuously and turn the sound system to maximum volume? I guess no sane person can be guilty of such behaviour, hence we need to relegate such offenders to the rock bottom levels of insanity.


I know that many filling stations like to advertise themselves as convenient pit-stops where one can refuel, use the bathroom, grab a bite or something to drink and generally unwind before embarking on the next stage of one’s drive. It seems some of us have taken the word “pit-stop” too literally, hence the need to fuel up and then burn half of the fuel instantly by incessantly footing the accelerator.


What is my problem with someone opting to play Lewis Hamilton at a filling station, you might ask? After all, it is their engine and their tyres that they are wrecking and it is their fuel that they are burning away. It’s also good entertainment for the otherwise bored and sleepy station attendants who often whistle, cheer and dance along to the discordant sounds of screeching tyres, howling engines and pumped up sound systems. So what exactly is my problem?


My problem is that at three o’clock in the morning, those of us who like to think of ourselves as sane, are usually at the sweetest and deepest point of well deserved sleep. A fuel station located in a residential area is meant to be for convenience not torture. The fact that an inconsiderate twit has just wound up their night of partying and is only going to bed does not in any way mean that the rest of the world needs to wake up and share in his final moments of fun. Once disturbed, we will be up for the rest of the day while he slumps into a lengthy, drunken slumber. I am no sleeping beauty, but may I have my full hours of sleep please; pretty please?!