hey Okay, so Sunday morning, howling Cape Town summer winds, quietish very cleverly-named Main Road just a block down from the hospital, where the traffic circle is and where the (very many) hookers stand, there were four cars. Me. And three others. Technically two others and a big luxury Ssanyong/Toyota Land Cruiser/BMW X5 4x4 SUV sort-of thing, like the FBI always have in movies. So it's me, the big 4x4 alongside me, an old beaten-up white sedan in front of me, and a red 80s-era Opel Kadett, also in fairly poor nick, a bit rusty'n'crusty'n'dusty. We are waiting at the robots (traffic lights in foreign parts) at the bottom of Browning Street, site of my horrific tyre-blowout of '99 (you can still see the skidmarks and the bits of bumper scraping all over the barrier, in fact). Basically, you come out of town on one of the highways, and about 3 miles later, take the Browning St exit down to the hospital via Main Rd. So much for geography lessons. And lectures in town planning. Point is, we're a block down from the hospital, a block up from the circle, at a red light. Me and three other cars. It's hot - it is summer, and we are in the middle of a pretty nasty drought - and it's windy. Welcome to Cape Town. The light goes green. The two cars in front of me and the 4x4 pull off. We wait the obligatory second or two, then follow. One of the guys in the car in front of me - the old white car, 3 occupants - leans out of his window and waves his arm. He was doing that at the robot as well. No big deal. A movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. I involuntarily turn my head to see what it is. That's reflexes for you. I can't quite place it, other than it was something to do with the red Opel. I am probably puzzled at this point. I realise the Opel's rear window - the big one, the back windscreen, has gone white. Opaque, smoked, like that glass they put in the gyms so people next to you can't see you naked in the shower clearly. As I watch, a small hole appears at the top left of the rear windscreen, just above the wiper. As I watch further, the central portion of the rear window bulges and explodes outwards, scattering glass all over the road. You can hear the tinkle of the shatterlings as they hit the tarmac. The 4x4 and I both step on our brakes, presumably both of us having the same idea of what has happened. I am pretty sure I didn't hear a bang. I could hear the glass falling onto the road, so a pistol crack from anything should have registered, I think. The white car and the red Opel proceed leisurely down the road. I pull back even further, unsure as to what is going on. About seven seconds later, I take the turn and head off to the circle, away from all that. As I turn, the white car changes lanes and is in front of the Opel, both driving on like nothing has happened. Perhaps nothing did happen. Perhaps I've just seen too many movies. I'm pretty sure, though, if I were just cruising along, minding my own business, and my back window just, you know, blew itself out, like a nervous breakdown on crack cocaine, I just might pull over to the side of the road and see what had happened. But hey, maybe that's just me. -d-