Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: The sexcapades of Pat and Jane


Victor Kwame Sampong
I started work a bit late in the day on Tuesday. Tuesdays are usually very poor in terms of patronage for us in this business.
So, when I had the chance to take a much needed rest aided by my car being with my mechanic, I grabbed it with both hands.
After getting back the vehicle, I set out for the day’s business to see how little I could rake in before I get frustrated out of the road (as is usually the case on Tuesdays).
After dropping off the first rider at Agudama Street in D-Line, I decided to move closer to the popular football pitch at Isiokpo Street to watch the guys play football, while waiting for my next rider.
About twenty minutes later, the phone rang and luckily, the pickup point was just ahead of me. I got there and I had to wait a further ten minutes for both ladies to be seated at the back.
We were barely two minutes into the journey when they started talking about some of the highlights of their chosen careers. Let me just pick out the juiciest ones to share.

I will just call them Jane and Pat (not real names obviously).
Jane was always excited whenever a friend she has on WhatsApp, Dennis, posts how he takes his babe to Abuja on a flexing spree.
So, one day, the said friend, Dennis posted a picture of a dildo, then guess what? Jane replied to the post that she likes it and went on to tell him that he does a few squats on hers sometimes, which obviously further drew Dennis into the conversation.
A few days later, after some raunchy chats, they both decided it was time to show working {Prove they could do what they had boasted about}. They picked a hotel as venue, then went to a sex shop to get a bigger dildo that she said cost forty five thousand naira. I almost turned around to ask her how an ordinary dildo can cost that much but I was just the Bolt driver and had to behave myself.
She continued that they both went to the hotel, and this was after taking stuff that would enhance their performance. Jane said everything was going on, all nice and smooth until when she was squirting so hard, that she passed out. According to her, it had to be about 3am and it caused panic in the room until she regained her consciousness.

She said it was Dennis who narrated the ordeal he went through while trying to revive her because his friend had advised him not to take her to the hospital, just in case they encountered the police on the road with a lifeless body in their car.
I’ll just leave it here, but she’s fine now and alive to tell her story, even though she still had those her stuff in her bag because her friend Pat was drinking the concoction they mixed inside a water bottle throughout the journey and they were raving about how effective it usually is.
It seems these ones never learn!
Don’t drink and drive
The age-long traffic rule, “Don’t drink and drive” seems to be lost on most people till date. As a result, numerous lives have been endangered. That would have been the case of Mr. Ejiofor if I hadn’t intervened as at the time I did.
I’m one of the few people who fancy working the night shifts as it offers less stress on the roads, not minding its potential dangers as well.
On this particular day, I was patrolling the streets at about midnight in search of my next order and I entered the Mgbuogba road from Ada George, en route Rumuokwuta Junction. As I got to the Girls Secondary School axis of the road, I noticed something unusual ahead.
It was a white Mercedes Benz GLK, jerking and approaching the junction too. I slowed down to observe and calculate my next move. “Was that a car jacker? Armed robber? Learner?” these questions flooded my mind, but the car was too exotic for any of those people, and learners did not really drive such cars at midnight.
I hurried up to the side of the car to see what’s going on. To my surprise, I found a man, without his shirt on, struggling to stay awake while driving. This would be after, probably having a good time at wherever he went to.
Luckily, his windows were down, so I was able to speak to him to step on the brakes because he was almost at the Median, instead of entering Ikwerre Road properly.
I parked, rushed to his side and the man was wasted. He had no shirt on, just trousers. He could barely keep his eyes open and I couldn’t make out what he was stuttering. I needed to act fast, even though I was confused with what to do at that point.
I told him my name and who I was, hoping he would hear and understand me and not be scared. Then I informed him that I couldn’t let him drive anymore as he could be a danger to himself and other road users. I inquired if there was someone I could reach out to on his behalf, but before he could answer, he passed out…flat.
As I lifted my head up to think of what to do next, I saw a few guys already heading towards us. And if you know this axis of Rumuokwuta, you’ll know that all manner of boys (gang members, cut throats, petty thieves) always hang around that spot, usually opposite the Genesis Restaurant.
As they got closer, one of them asked what was going on and why we were blocking the road. I needed to think fast, so by the time they got to our spot and repeated the question one more time, I found myself telling them that “Mr. Ejiofor na my ‘senior man’. Na me dey usually carry am comot for night. But this time when him call, I been no dey with my kapa. So, him comot alone. As him dey come back unto highness matter, him call me make I lap so that I fit help drive am back go house. Na so I take trace am come reach here”. {Mr Ejiofor is my boss. I drive him around, especially at night, but when he called this time, I was not available, so he went out alone, got drunk, so I had to trace him down here to help him get home}
I also had to mention some notable Kingpins in the area (in a manner that suggested they too ought to know me as well). I mentioned top names around the Rumuokwuta and Rumu-Chuku communities who play football with me at the Rumuokwuta Girls School and Elechi Amadi Polytechnic. That helped as they now knew I was someone they could reckon with and should not be touched, because the repercussions could lead back to them.
Luckily, they bought my story and I asked one of them to help me move Mr. Ejiofor to the passenger seat so I can drive to a safer place, which he did.
I got in the driver’s seat and that was when I knew that there were cars, but this one was a real machine. I couldn’t find the gear at the regular spot, like my Corolla. There were too many buttons inside the car and plenty lights on the dashboard. Local man got confused instantly. Let us not forget that the boys were still around too, probably, gauging my next move.
I had to apply wisdom, observed the dashboard to see the location of the gear lights and how they were structured. That was when I discovered the gear stick beside the steering (like the one used to regulate the wiper in my car) and I needed to gently push inside or upward/downward movement to engage the gear. I did it successfully and moved the car to the Kilimanjaro restaurant at the roundabout, then I dashed back on foot to drive my own car to the same spot.
I usually have a big bottle of water I drink gradually on
my night shifts. So, I took it and gave some to Mr. Ejiofor who regained consciousness briefly. I told him I’d like to lodge him in a hotel so he could sleep peacefully and proceed to his house in the morning when he’s feeling much better. I didn’t wait for his approval before driving to Dot Nova, just after the fuel station at the roundabout. The gateman told us there were no rooms available so I reversed and took him to Orosi Guest House off Psychiatric Road, but met the same response too.
It was almost 2am and he was beginning to get himself a bit more, but was still in no condition to drive, so, I returned to Rumuokwuta again.
One of the boys who earlier approached us came to the spot where I parked the both cars to ask for progress report and after briefing him, he suggested to drive my car, while I drive the Benz so we can all head to Mr. Ejiofor’s house. Before then, I had already asked him the location of his house and he tried his best to give me directions.
I had no choice but to agree, because, if I leave him there all alone, and with those boys still lurking around, his phones (both of them high-end) and other valuables would be gone in no time. They could easily open his bonnet to take his car battery as well. He could also try to drive home again and this time, the result might be fatal. None of these potential outcomes appealed to me.
That’s how I took up Christian’s offer, but handing my car to a total stranger was a difficult pill to swallow. I couldn’t also risk leaving my car behind and start looking for means to get back after I might succeed in taking Mr. Ejiofor home.
We headed for Obiri Ikwerre interchange, descended downwards to the Amaechi School ‘estate’ road. We would stop at some point to let Mr. Ejiofor throw up and drink some water. Then ask for more directions. That’s what we did, intermittently, till we finally got to his house. I sounded the horn and the gate man opened up to see Oga’s car. We drove in and I explained to him what happened. Apparently, there was no one else at home too.
I asked that he gives me his oga’s number so I could call him later to tell him how he got home. He did, I gave him mine as well and left.
I dropped Christian back at Rumuokwuta with a two thousand naira reward for his efforts.
The next day, reflected on what happened and looking at the different possibilities I knew I played a dangerous game that night.
“What if I met a police patrol team who knew him, saw him lying lifeless in the car and thought me to be a kidnapper abducting him? What if, while taking him around, we got robbed of the car, or even my car that was driven by a stranger at midnight? What if one of the boys had stolen something from his car, either a phone, money or something and I did not know? Mr. Ejiofor realised in the morning, calls me to come over and arrests me? What if he even died in the car? Who would have believed my story? Because I had no idea who he was with the previous night and what he had consumed”
All these thoughts flooded my mind as I continued to ask if I had actually done the right thing.
Two days later, after not hearing from him, I called to see how he was faring and he was so glad to hear the story and promised to get across to me for my act of kindness.
It has been a month and two weeks, nothing yet.
After calling him 3 more times to ‘see how far’, it felt like I was bugging him. So, I let it slide.
Nonetheless, I’m glad I did the right thing that day. My time, energy and resources were not in vain, but moving forward, would I do the same thing, considering the risks involved?

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