Me, my driving ban, and the car Marcel

I currently have a driving ban. Yes—this girl has been speeding.

To be fair, I always drive fast, but never stupidly. I have kids, a grandchild, and I’m a cyclist myself. I know when to slow down and when a tiny bit of extra speed is harmless.

But two years ago (yes, two years!) I went a little too fast in one of those ridiculous new 30 km/h zones where there are no pedestrians, no traffic—no life at all. Far from city centers and schools. But hey, the government is short on money, and literally everyone gets caught the moment a speed camera is installed. Everyone.

And because I was exactly 1 km/h over the threshold, I didn’t just get a fine. No. I got a court date, a conditional conviction, and a driving ban of four weekends. Two years later, a police officer suddenly shows up at my door: time to hand in my license.

But what a procedure! A drive to the courthouse to surrender my license. Then drive to my town hall for a temporary one that allows weekday driving only.
Driving ban: immediate.
New license: “sometime next week.”

So my “four weekends” basically turned into ten full days without driving.

And the moment I realise I can’t drive, I lose my mind. I feel trapped, even though I sometimes go four days without touching the car. It’s the lack of choice that gets me.

But then, late Monday afternoon, I get a message: my new license is ready. I’m out the door in seconds. Ten minutes later, freedom is back in my hands. And what do I do with it? Stay home. Naturally. I didn’t even need to go anywhere—I just needed the option.

The next morning I feel like the sky has reopened. All because of that little plastic card.

I walk to my car—yes, him. His name is Marcel. My beloved partner in crime. My getaway vehicle. The one I adore cruising around in with loud music and even louder thoughts. I have a whole animated conversation with him, answering for him too.

My husband opens the door, staring at me like I’ve lost it.
“Who are you talking to?”

I’m already in the car, window down, laughing. “Marcel!”

He raises his eyebrows, shakes his head, and starts laughing too. I can practically hear him thinking, She’s even crazier than I thought.

And honestly?
It feels like a delight, in its purest form!

image is AI generated