Angel

Abdul, the driver, is cool. The music is pumping and we drive into the desert at top speed. The three Aussies are screaming for Abdul to drive faster as he swerves in and out of the shiny new cars on the highway and laughs about the heaps of guys he’s made throw up on this trip. I don’t see one Suzuki Swift (which is what my clueless grandmother drives and which I absolutely refuse to be seen dead in). Abdul tells us there’s no speed limit in Dubai until you get to around 160 kph and your engine starts to smoke! But there’s plenty of sand and I secretly pray we won’t hit a sand bank side on and skid into the concrete barrier. Abdul drives along the shoulder overtaking everyone on the inside. He’s hilarious! We get to where they do the dune bashing – in 4WDs, on motor bikes and even on mini surf boards. Abdul rams the Black Panther into gear. We are like holding on to whatever we can – each other, door handles, fur - trying not to land on the floor upside down, going dizzy, hysterical, screaming!  And there is my mother.