Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Strange stuff and sex in my car


Victor Kwame Sampong

Hello! My name is Victor Kwame Sampong. I live in Port Harcourt and I am a Bolt Driver. Every week, I will be sharing my experiences while on the road, some good, some bad, some ugly and some damned right raunchy. This is a start.

So, I got a call from my usual plug to pick up a client at the airport within the hour.
I set out immediately and got there while the client was making his way out of the departure hall.

Mr. Ben was tall and young, looked polished and spoke smartly. He boarded my vehicle and we proceeded to his hotel which was not too far off. He was in town for a wedding taking place the next day, all the way from Abuja.

While trying to clean my car at night after I’ve closed work for the day, Ben called that I should hurry up to his hotel because there was an emergency. I told him I’d wrapped up for the day, but he insisted by saying I would be rewarded handsomely for my time. Words like these sound like sweet music to my ears.

That was how I rushed down there with the speed of light, proceeded to his room after checking in with the receptionist.

My client started to spill. Man says he knows a ”guy man’ when he sees one and that’s why he didn’t see the need to hide ‘it’ from me.

Apparently, he can’t sleep without taking stuff and would need my assistance to get some. I told him I don’t sell, but I can take him to a few joints I suspect might have what he was looking for.

So, at about midnight, we set out, got to the joint, he got his stuff, I dropped him off, got paid well and went back home.

But at about 3am, when sleep dey sweet pass, Mr. Ben called again. He’s out! In less than 2 hours! He practically begged me to come get him. He was almost in tears. Well, duty calls and local man got respond to a man in distress right?

I got to his room and my gee was erratic already. This time, he asked how much would it cost to keep me within the hotel premises till daybreak (in case he runs out again), take him to his event and back to the airport. I charge am wetin no nice. He didn’t bother bargaining. I got paid upfront because I no wan hear sey dem shoot bird, the mama come fly.

Well, I took him to get his usual, plus other variations. We returned and I watched a fine young man ‘blow away’ about 200k (cos the vendors knew he was a mugu and therefore sold the stuff to him at outrageous rates) just like that.

By morning, he was back to his fine, polished, gentleman self again. A stark difference from who he turned out to be at night. As I took him back to the airport, I kept wondering which of those sides appealled to me more: the sharp, intelligent, smart-speaking Mr. Ben or the erratic fellow who needs stuff before taking a short nap at night.

Your guess is as good as mine!

Sex for a ride

Due to some electrical issues, I couldn’t resume my night shift on time. Nonetheless, I still hit the road, hoping to make up for lost time.

My 5th ride was quite the story.

I had just finished dropping off a rider at Choba at about 12:10am and was dashing back to GRA, hoping to pick up a few more at the usual bubbling spots.

As I was about to cross the Mercyland junction, I got flagged down by a girl standing behind a dump truck. I usually ignore such calls, but I can’t tell what made me stop, reverse and ask her to hop in even before she could say anything. I guess her safety was more important to me.

The girl then told me that her boyfriend wanted to see her that night and wanted me to speak to him concerning the cost of transportation to his place which was around the Ogbogoro area.

I billed him five thousand naira, considering the time and location. After much pleading from both parties, we settled for four thousand naira and we headed off.

After a few stop and ask sessions, we located the estate (one of the most abused words in Nigeria -estate), but the security guards at the gates refused to let us in. They said they would not open the gates at 12:45am without hearing from the person we wanted to see. So, we decided to call the boyfriend to speak to them, but his number was unreachable. Gaddammitt! We tried to call with everything on us, but no way.

I kept thinking of how to get my money from this botched mission and time sef don dey go. {It was getting really late}

We were all tired, and to make matters worse, the guards still stood their grounds and would not open up until they heard from him.

The girl, cutting a frustrated and disappointed look asked that I take her back home. I wasted no time and in a few minutes we were almost at the earlier pick up point, which was beside the dump truck at Mercyland.

I now threw the question- transfer or cash. At the third time of asking, madam broke silence with an (UN)usual response.

She offered to pay in kind because she was broke, as she made it seem. She said she could have given me her phone as collateral, collect my number and when payment is made, I could bring it back to her, but her phone was not much different from a calculator.

So she offered herself to me as a living sacrifice. She suggested we do it in the car, while we park behind the same dump truck.
The girl was so pretty, and she had the kind of bow legs that made me open my saving box for Abena Mansa years ago in Ghana. Yes, I saw her bow legs when we got down from the car while pleading with those guards to open the gate.

Of course I was tempted, but, I refused to lose sight of my goal…💰💰💰.

I brought out my jotter, instead, scribbled down my account details for her and told her to send the money if and when she gets. Yes, it was just four thousand naira. I let go of the return trip.

Another day, another adventure

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