Her aim on her last day is to leave with a contraband meerkat and the wheelchair that has apparently been calling her name from the storage room.

(Let's just say if I ever get called to the police station because one of my two daughters has pulled a practical joke gone wrong, it won't ever be a 50-50 guess.)

Anyway, my other daughter and I have been racking up the frequent flyer miles on the Western Highway, which has given us the chance to witness some remarkable driving.

First, there was the guy in a white ute with a politically correct foxtail who followed me a few Wednesdays ago. 

Actually, he was so close I'm surprised he didn't ask me to change the music and turn down the AC.

Once we hit the highway, he sped past me, then slowed down in front of me. If I showed any sign of going out to pass, he would speed up again. 

It was like playing the motorised version of tiggy. I finally decided his driving behaviour was overcompensating for something - like maybe the size of his exhaust pipe.

Then there was the dude in a black 4WD who, when we came to a stop between Bacchus Marsh and Melton due to a car accident, decided to reverse all the way back to the Bacchus Marsh turnoff.

I take my hat off to the poor guy driving at a fast clip around the bend whose evasive driving skills were obviously learnt from Smokey and the Bandit.

But the winner was the P plater - with a baby on board - who road raged me down Ballarat Road because I refused to let him into my lane.

One, in my world, possession is nine-tenths of the law and that bit of tar was mine.

And two, in my defence, it's very hard to see blinkers in a car sitting parallel to you. 

 I'm a mum so I have eyes in the back of my head - but not on the side of my face too.

Luckily I'm highly passive aggressive so I was able to block out the anger by completely ignoring the guy screaming abuse at me. Naturally enough, this only enraged him further so I chalked that one up me.