Sunday Bloody [Easter] Sunday
Ξ March 24th, 2008 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Motoring, Mumble |
I’ve discovered why Sunday drivers are such pains in the arse – they’re all in neutral!
Today, Easter Sunday, *I* was in neutral; and judging by all the people who were sat right on my ahole [rear bumper], I assume that, as this is a ‘typical Sunday driver scenario’, all Sunday drivers must be in neutral too? However, my excuse for doing no more than 10 mph at times was that I was attempting a rather cool, gravity assisted experiment. Hmmm, maybe Sunday drivers are all trying something similar then [nah]?
What was I doing you ask? Well, it was a ‘super feat’ … endeavouring to coast the entire length of the Cleeve Hill, from the top, down into Prestbury High Street!
Cleeve Hill is fabulous; great views, superb walking on the common [an added bonus here is that as the public have the right-of-way you get to annoy all those ‘ruining a good walk’ golfing types]. It even has a groovy pub in the shape of the Rising Sun. But undoubtedly nice as it is, for me there’s always been one thing missing – in the hundreds of times I must have driven down this hill, I’ve always wondered if I could simply roll down it instead! You would ride the crest at the legal speed limit, and then, feathering the brakes as and when necessary [not much!], make it to the bottom, and Prestbury High Street. And I’d love to tell you whether or not this is all possible, but as I always trip over some ‘waste of a licence’ type doing 25 mph, I’ve never managed it. And needless to say, I didn’t manage to test my theory today either.
What goes through these people’s minds? “Oh f**k, it’s a hill!!! Throw out the anchor, floor the ‘go slower’ peddle” … you know I’m sure they must jump out their skins as the mountain bikers, tractors, 2CVs, ramblers and little old ladies with Zimmer frames all simply whiz past them!
In the end, and having normalised my speed in a second attempt, i.e., to try the last little bit from the 30 mph sign, we pretended to be looking for something – like trying to find a house that’s only got a name instead of a number. Well, I mean you have to pretend you’re doing something acceptable – when you’re doing 5 mph through the shops and waiting for the last little bit of a slope down to the white blobs that pass for roundabouts at ‘the finish’! Once you hit those, you yell ‘Rally!’ and, with a little bit of right foot, the world returns to normal – as does your blood pressure!