I am convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that the driver of the cab that dropped me at the office today was Michael Schumacher's long-lost brother. He seemed determined to take me to my destination in record time.

On the way, he practically ignored the fact that there is such a thing as brakes in the vehicle. He noticed cars in the front only when he was inches away from their rear bumper. And I doubt if he ever as much as glanced at the rear view or side mirrors.

Poor me sitting in the back had only 2 options – to yell at him to go slow or to keep quiet and trust God Almighty. I chose the later as I listened to a steady stream of songs from the Golden Era to calm my frayed nerves.

So when the cab halted at the front door of the office, I almost jumped out and ran inside. Wish I had noted down the cab's number though. I don't particularly care for an encore.:-)