Girls don’t know how to drive. Girls never stop to give anyone a lift. You cannot rely on girls for nothing. They walked around the world afraid of everything: speed, thieves, muggers, rapists... Their driving is ridiculous, the driver’s seat under the wheel, hunched legs, stiff back and watchful eye.

But, on a second thought, that lift wouldn’t be on your interest because they never get on the road for long rides. If they stop, the most unlikely, she would always tell you she’s going to buy wine, corn bread, potatoes, apples... Right there, at four or five kilometres. Women always buy. And those that don’t buy, they sell. And those that don’t buy, nor sell, they look for something. And those that don’t buy, nor sell, nor look for something, they ask. And each and every one of them stay on the village.

Women are silly, even more, really gossip.

And I’m not being chatty, I’ve gone lots of times to Vilanova’s  discos or to Xunqueira’s cinema, I know what I’m talking about. This was not the first time I run into the road. Although it was the time I was feeling more anxious, hurried and pressed by the circumstances. And now I don’t even know how I ended up on that car, how I sat by her side, being at her will.