Overtaking

Over the last few weeks, as I’ve said before, I’ve been doing a lot of driving – commuting between home and Cambridge, roughly 110 miles per day. In that time I’ve also seen a huge dollop of bad driving. I’m not saying I’m a perfect driver – Gawd knows, I’ve made enough mistakes as well in that time. But there’s a couple of things that drive me mental every time I see them, and they both involve overtaking. Just for reference, this is usually done on motorways and dual-carriageways, rather than single-carriageway roads.

First, I don’t get the entire thing of starting an overtaking manoeuvre and then indicating. It drives me potty. OK, it’s slightly better than the tosspot BMW drivers who all appear to have their indicators turned off by default.

Second – and this is the big one – is the people who pull out to overtake, and then either stick at 5mph above whatever vehicle they’re overtaking (and so take forever to do it) or even worse, slow down! Why? What’s the fucking point? Well, except for being the sort of selfish festering bell-end who enjoys blocking up lanes and screwing things up for other road-users, of course.


Braindead

Over the last six weeks or so, I’ve been driving from home to work on pretty much a daily basis. It’s given me a lot more freedom time-wise, particularly while we’ve been in the time crunch of heavy workloads while preparing for the site launch and so on.

Since we launched the main site last week, I was supposed to be going back to using the train. I even picked up my season-ticket pass thing.

And then I got halfway to work, hit a traffic jam on the poxy single-carriageway bit of the A11 (which I’ve written about several times before) and thought:

“Bollocks. I was going to get the train.”

The joys of mental autopilot…


Taxing

I’ve now had my car nearly six months. Which, of course, means that it’s also coming up to the expiry of the six month road-tax I got with it.

I got the reminder for the road tax last week, and decided to have a go at the entire Road Tax online thing – and it all went really painlessly. Herself had tried it last month for her car, and hadn’t been able to get through the process, so I was wondering how good it would be, but yeah, the entire process was easy – and a lot less time-consuming than going to get the disc at the Post Office!


Amusement

As I’ve said before, if I drive in to work, I have to go on the pox-ridden bit of single-carriageway road on the A11 between Barton Mills and Thetford. If you’ve ever been to the Center Parcs at Elveden Forest, you’ll know the bit of road to which I refer.

Either side of this section is decent fast dual-carriageway road. But this one section is single-carriageway, and slows everything down.

Now, I admit, I do drive fast. In that way I’m totally a “Type A” personality. Couldn’t deny it if I tried. But I only drive fast when I can. If I can’t, then hey ho, I’ll go with whatever speed everything else is going at. And at that level, I’m far more Type B. Go figure. Mr Paradoxical, and all that jazz.

What this means, though, is that when I get to the poxy bit of road, I’ll go with the flow, which normally (well, normal for 6.30/7am on a weekday) amounts to about 40-50mph. Still not bad, so what the hell. However, this enrages the full-on 100% Type A drivers. Yes, you guessed it, I’m talking about BMW drivers. Why are you not surprised?

Today’s example really amused me, though. Mr BMW 5-series had come tanking up behind me, already doing several dodgy overtaking manoeuvres. He then came out and blasted past me, going round a blind curve on the wrong side of the road. Utter, utter tit. (I know, synonymous with “BMW Driver”)

For once, though, the blind curve didn’t knacker him. It was the next overtaking manoeuvre, while he obviously wasn’t being aware of what he was passing. Blasted past four cars, then tried to slam the brakes on in order to get into a gap before the oncoming truck greased the road with BMW oil.

What everyone else saw, though, was that one of those four cars just overtaken was – yes! – a police car, in full regalia. Hi-vis side bars, lights on the top – you know the drill. And so those lights started flashing, the plod pulled out, caught up with Mr BMW, and pulled him in to the next lay-by.

At which point all the other, rather more Type B drivers who’d just accepted that this bit of road is always shit just cruised on past while Mr BMW was sat up, getting a very solid telling off from Mr Plod.

For some reason, my mood is rather good this morning after that. Maybe there’s a connection?


Whisky Galore

Blimey, there’s a whisky distillery just down the road from where we live. Who knew?

I even see the place every day when I travel on the train. Fantastic. Now I may have to go and visit at some point – even if none of the whisky will be sold before the end of 2009…


Oh Dear

Thirty seconds after leaving Cambridge station, on the train towards home. We hadn’t even got past the river when a little voice piped up from the seating section behind me

“Are we there yet?”
“No”
“How long is it going to be?”
“An Hour”
“I’m bored”

And on. And on. And on.

Thank Christ for having a) headphones and b) plenty of (legal) MP3 files.


Virgin on the Ridiculous

All I can say is ‘And about time too‘.

I’ve ranted long and hard about Virgin’s shitty cross-country rail service. And now they’ve lost the franchise. Boo-bloody-hoo.

Still, I bet Arriva make just as much of a pig’s ear of it…