Moaning about speed cameras

I don't really understand how people can justify moaning about speed cameras - if you don't speed, you don't get fined. All these people who bang on about it being a stealth tax clearly don't understand the correct meaning of the word 'stealth' - there can be few people in the country who aren't aware of the purpose and consequences of speed cameras so I wouldn't have thought there was anything that stealthy about one of the most talked about systems in the country. And frankly I don't see why we shouldn't tax people who speed - if you are going to impose an arbitrary fine on people to swell underfunded coffers, I don't see why speeders shouldn't be targeted. I would be equally happy if there were a system which imposed fines on anyone breaking the law provided the basis is that people will be able to pay (no point trying to squeeze any money out of those who can't - as the banking system has discovered, fines for having no money don't really work) and people who drive cars fast have at least enough money for a car. The only thing I think is slightly unfair is that people who have either enough time, or enough brass neck will dispute or ignore the fines, and seem by and large to get away with it - if your car isn't registered, you won't get fined so in some ways it penalises those who are honest. However, if you pick and choose which laws you follow then you have to be prepared to accept the consequences of the ones you chose to break.

Ironic Driving

This is a phenomenon which seems to be spreading, and is mostly noticeable on my journey to work, during which time I travel from a 30 zone, into a 20 zone, back to 30, up to 60, slowing to 40, back up to 60, then finally 30 as I get closer and come through a residential zone, and during this time I will occasionally find that I am behind the same person almost all the way. Occasionally this person will shoot through the 40 zones at 50 miles an hour, but then maintain that speed in a 60 mile an hour zone. Now, I appreciate that sometimes people aren't confident driving at speed, and that the speed limit is a limit, not a target, but when a driver displays such flagrant lack of regard for these facts by speeding at inappropriate times, it makes me think that they don't really understand the national speed limit. They see the sign with the black line across a white background, and they aren't really sure how fast they're allowed to go, so they toddle along at about 50 just in case. I don't really understand it as there are only two speed limits really - 60 on a single carriageway and 70 on a dual carriageway in a normal vehicle. Presumably, those who have taken extra tests to be allowed to drive a vehicle which has different limits should really have learnt what those were when they took their tests. So why is it, that on a clear road with no obstacles and no adverse weather conditions, someone who just hooned through a residential area at 45 mph suddenly gets all shy and sticks to 51 on the A-roads. Another practice which I can't fathom is that of over-taking at either terrifying speed, terrifying proximity or both, only to then start driving slower than the person you overtook was driving. Why? What on earth makes you risk your life to overtake if all you wanted to do was drive slower than the person in front of you? It does make me more confident in my own driving abilities - because I passed my test when I was about 22 and everyone I knew had been driving for longer than that I always felt as though I was catching up and that I was the only person on the roads who didn't know what I was doing. This feeling stayed with me until the beginning of last year which is when I started to drive to work, meaning that instead of driving approximately once a week, I was now driving twice a day, which has done wonders for my confidence, but has so dented my confidence in other people's driving that I think my overall road confidence is just about balanced out as I exercise extra caution to avoid being the unfortunate victim of someone else's witless inability to wait, watch or just drive properly generally. All the same, I do like to imagine a world where everyone drives with a bit more care and really thinks about whether their personal desire to get somewhere really outweighs their desire to live, own functioning legs or sleep at night without the soul-gnawing knowledge that their twattishness has had a horrific impact on someone else's life. Until then I will just be content that I wasn't the spanner I saw the other day who indicated left, but instead of making the turn, pulled out to his right instead, still indicating otherwise - he must dice with death on a daily basis, I just hope it's his own.

Designated Drivers

I don’t really think about this topic much, but did over the weekend when I realised that the Boy Wonder is not really cut out for being the designated driver. If he is playing, then he tends not to drink anyway, and so will happily drive home, but if not, I really can’t remember more than a few times when he has driven home just so I could drink, and they have normally been from parental visits for some reason. Not that I mind really – when we first got together I couldn’t drive. Having lived in London my whole life, and having had a fraught time learning to drive with the ‘help’ of my father, it never seemed that important to complete the process. When I first moved to Cambridge I lived within walking distance of town, university and work, so never needed to drive then either. However, once I moved in with the Boy Wonder I started to feel guilty that he always drove everywhere and so I had driving lessons with a man who looked an awful lot like Gerry Adams. He did his own talking though, so I knew it wasn’t the real Gerry Adams, and he taught me the rest of what I needed to know to pass my test first time – go me. By this time, the Boy Wonder and I had been together for about three years, so I told him I would drive for the next three years, which I duly did. That was about five years ago, and I am still the designated driver, largely due to the fact that my period of abstinence from alcohol was so prolonged that whilst I was ‘serving my time’ I became a complete lightweight and started falling asleep after a couple of drinks. I also ‘went off’ drinking a bit as I couldn’t find a drink I liked enough to warrant the Boy Wonder driving home. Fast forward to the present, a time when the Bow takes care of all my alcohol needs and we went out last Friday. We had discussed the option of leaving a car in town and getting a cab home, but following the wedding and honeymoon we are both a bit skint, so opted for one of us driving home. A prolonged discussion followed where the Boy Wonder offered to drive, even stating that it was his ‘turn’, then I offered to drive, and it became a case of ‘who will crack first’. I did – I said ‘Alright then, you drive.’ Cue a tragically despondent face from the Boy Wonder, to which my immediate response was ‘Well, you were clearly bluffing weren’t you?’ He claims he wasn’t, but then adds ‘If had known you were going to say that I would have parked somewhere else and got a cab home.’ I order water while he orders a beer, but still the matter is not resolved. We discuss moving the car over dinner, by which point I am beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable about how much fuss is being made over this, and as I still haven’t drunk anything, I offer to drive home again. Boy Wonder is sticking to his guns though, and insists I have some wine. At 3am when we come to leave, and I am still pretty sober having only drunk about three glasses of wine in the last six hours, I realise the futility of this exercise. The Boy Wonder doesn’t want to drive, and I would rather not drink than spend an evening with him looking vaguely saddened by his tee-totality. I also cannot bear another discussion over the matter where he pretends he doesn’t mind, but is unable to arrange his face in an expression that does not convey intense disappointment if I do take him up on the offer. This is not a complaint, but a slightly sickening realisation that I would rather not drink than prevent the Boy Wonder from drinking if he wants to, and I can’t enjoy myself if the Boy Wonder isn’t enjoying himself – I suppose that is a good thing being as we just got married and I should like him and stuff, but it still surprises me how much I really do…