TheBanyanTree: Getting away with it

[John Bailey]

Tuesday April 26, 2005

Getting away with it

I was tip-tap-tapping at the keyboard, full speed ahead, totally engrossed 
in my early morning writing session, almost at the end of the first draft, 
when I heard the unmistakeable sound of a full-scale foot-tapping from the 
doorway into the newly-painted study.

"You do realise we should be leaving in five minutes?"

I looked at the clock, which seemed somehow to have jumped forward a full 
hour, filled with shame and gulped. "Oh, bother. Yes, sorry, I'll be ready 
just as soon as I possibly can." And so, mid-sentence, I clicked on 'save', 
shut the computer down and dashed off to get sluiced and spruced, ready to go.

It was about 07:10, ten minutes after the target we'd set for being on the 
road, when I yelled: "I'm ready."

"Right then. Let's go do IKEA."

It wasn't a bad drive.  I went faster than normal, not stupidly so but 
enough not to hinder commuters on their way to urgent things. Did pretty 
well, considering, keeping up with the flow. Even so there were the usual 
total loonies rushing to get to where-ever sooner than legal speed limits 
allowed. One in particular, a big brand-new shiny red Toyota saloon, darn 
near shoved me off the road in his haste to overtake not just me but some 
four or five cars in a bunch behind a horse box. He just about scraped 
through before oncoming traffic came into sight, rounding a curve.

"How fast do you reckon he was going?" asked Graham.

"I'm a shade over the 50 limit here so I suspect he was doing close to 80. 
Perhaps more."

"Bloody lunatic."

"You said it, buster. I'm glad he's in front, though. Didn't feel 
comfortable with him on my tail."

"He'll get his just deserts."

"Like as not," I said, and pressed on, happily dismissing Mr Hasty from my 
thoughts.

Some way further on we were flashed by several drivers coming towards us. I 
acknowledged with a salute, took it to indicate there was a police speed 
trap ahead, glanced at my speedometer and was reassured to find I was 
driving just under the speed limit. Even so, I eased off, just in case. The 
gap between me and the vechicle in front widened and then, as we rounded a 
corner, suddenly diminished. I slowed, slowed some more, and then, as the 
queue ahead came to a halt, stopped in good time and in good order. As did 
the car behind. And the car behind him.

"Can you see what's up from your side?" I asked.

Graham wound his window down, stuck his head out, and had a good look. 
"Nope," he said. "It goes round the corner out of sight."

"Ah well. Can I have a peppermint, please?"

And we eased forward, one car length at a time, still reasonably happy we 
were ahead of schedule and that our IKEA breakfast was not under threat.

Then, rounding the corner, we saw the reason for the hold up. There were 
three or four cars, each crunched into the one before and, a few feet ahead 
of them, the brand-new shiny Toyota, on its side, wrapped around a tree. On 
the opposite side a black car, badly battered, was shoved into the road 
side, leaving one vechicle-width of road between them to allow a one-by-one 
exchange of traffic to slide past. Standing all about were people talking 
into their mobile phones and a few more useful souls were doing their best 
to apply first aid and see the traffic through safely.

"I'm afraid that Mr Hasty has got his just deserts rather sooner than might 
be expected," I said, quietly.

Graham glanced across at me, checking to see if I was upset. I wasn't. 
Quietened, but not upset. "Had to happen." And then, as we slipped past and 
hit the open road again, "Just you watch your speed."

"Don't I always?"

The rest of the journey was uneventful and I'd forgotten the incident. It 
stayed forgotten in fact until I sat down to write about the day. Rather 
solemn-making, seeing something like that, and I can't help but be 
chastened a little at the thought of all the times in the past when I was 
always in a hurry, taking stupid risks on the road and never once getting 
so much as a scratch. I used to say that my accident-free record was due to 
my incredible driving skills. Twaddle. I got away with it, nothing more.

Anyway, we got to IKEA just about five minutes before the store opened at 
10:00, slid into the restaurant, and grabbed our breakfast. Graham had his 
favourite sausage-inna-bun and I was all set to have my normal breakfast 
plate when I noticed that they now do a 'big' breakfast for an extra 85p. 
Guess what I had?  Well, I did miss out on my breakfast at home, and I had 
just driven for two and a half hours in heavy traffic, so I deserved it. 
Twaddle again. A different kind of twaddle, but not so very different, not 
when you come down to it.

Hey ho. I don't have a cooked breakfast often enough to do any real harm 
and my incredible digestion skills will keep me accident-free. Possibly.


--

John Bailey   Lincolnshire, England

journal of a writing man:
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>