Nothing But Curious Cows and John Deers

I’ve not been driving all that long, considering how I am twenty-one years old, with a job (albeit not the job of my dreams, but it pays the rent...and the bills...although that’s about it) and a house (a rented one). In fact, I passed just last month, after three failed attempts and a car that had to be written off because a tree came through the roof after I crashed into it. Before you worry, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds – I climbed out of the poor beaten Peugeot without a single scratch on my shaken body. I think it is, therefore, fair to conclude that I am not a very good driver. Which could explain why I refuse to have passengers, and why I like to go for random drives down small, unused country lanes – to practise with a limited fear of seriously injuring somebody.

So it was that, on this particular Sunday afternoon, I waved a quick, nonchalant goodbye to my flatmates, yanked on the letter box flap to pull the stiff, sticking door closed, and dived into my car (now a Corsa), sliding my homemade CD of rock tunes into the player before strapping myself securely in and starting the car. We live in a small town in South Wales, where country roads are something of an abundance, and easy to find...though rarely used by any vehicle that is not a John Deer tractor, so I headed off down the dual carriageway, turned off onto a B-road, and then out again into the fields overlooking the valley. The roads through these fields are small, narrow, with low, trimmed hedges to allow for good views across the surrounding rolling hilltops, and the roads making spider webs around the valley, spinning out in chaotic networks from the central streets of Carmarthen.

I like to drive by myself. I have full control of the car, the music, the conversation, and the route I take, which tends to be those less populated by other drivers. I don’t trust drivers, and I don’t trust myself as a driver, so it seems easiest to take at least one of those factors out of the equation.

Today, the sun was in full bloom – a rarity in Wales, and the sky was almost cloudless bar a few fluttering cirrus clouds, streaking the afternoon sky. The road was dusty, dry and quiet, and I rolled down the window to feel the breeze lift the hair from around my face. Everything looks greener in the sunshine, although, I tend to notice, drier. As if on cue, my tongue began to feel dry, my throat parched and in need of a drink.

As tends to happen when I’m on these lonely country roads, I found myself slipping into a daydream (something involving abroad, a pool, and a bikini...), and thus failed to notice where exactly I was driving. The Corsa, it seemed, knew exactly where it wanted to go, regardless of my hand resting on the steering wheel.

Which could explain why I was jolted to attention when the road ran out...and headed straight towards a cliff that fell down the side of the hilltop.

I slammed my foot on the brake and the little Corsa jerked to a sudden stop, leaving me sitting there, staring at the edge of the hill, heart pounding in my ears, chest rising and falling at such a rapid rate that I had to hide it with my hand to stop me from panicking.
Something tells me that I’d have worse than a written-off Corsa on my hands had I failed to see that. In fact, I probably wouldn’t even have any hands to write the car off...

Shuddering, I slowly opened the car door, and almost fell out of it. Sat on the grass, I dared to peek over the edge of the cliff. Granted, it wasn’t actually far to the bottom, but the descent was rocky, tumultuous, sharp. A car would most definitely not have a smooth drop down. Wiping my sweaty hands on the long grass, I looked around me. I had no idea where the actual road was, because my car was currently sitting on nothing more than a mud track through a field. As if to confirm my suspicions, a brown cow with pretty almond eyes stepped towards me, curious and scared simultaneously.

It was as I was watching the curious cow that I realised I could hear running water. Perhaps ‘running’ is the wrong word; gushing, surging water. Standing a little unsteadily, I followed the sound, letting the heat of the sun resurrect me from my shock, back to reality.
Not metres from the place where my car sat admiring the view, a fence separating two fields demanded my attention, the metal twinkling in the sun light. I climbed it, and almost fell into the river the other side, hidden from view by a ditch. Following it, I cautiously approached the edge of the cliff, as close as I dared.

The river spilled down between boulders of hard rock, splashing off from them to jet down into the water below, which wound its way into the valley beyond. I found what I deemed to be a sturdy rock, sat upon it, and watched the water meeting the sunshine and sparkling in all its glory, mini rainbows arching from the waterfalls’ surface. It seemed to fill me with such a feeling of happiness and admiration that I smiled widely, and sat there until the sun could no longer sparkle on the droplets. The iridescent sheen was calming, and eventually I stood up, my mood now jovial as I climbed over the fence, and walked to my car. As the golden sun began to sink into the valley below, I knew that despite my carelessness having almost flown me over the edge of a cliff, I would never regret taking the road less travelled – in fact, that is probably the route I will always choose to take.

Word Count: 1000 words