ONE of my mates is convinced we’re living in some brutal and unfair police state.
She’d felt the full force of the police – that’s a £60 fine to you and me – for breaching the laws of the land, and reckons it’s all the fault of evil, target-hungry coppers. The only problem is, I agree with them.
Her crime was not being bothered to belt up, which I honestly think is one of the riskiest things you can do on the road, short of being drunk or drugged up. The last thing I’d want to do is pretend I’m a brilliant driver dancing around gingerly on the moral high ground – I’m not – but a £60 fine probably wasn’t enough.
I took a break from being a Champion reporter last Friday (even journalists get holidays sometimes) and headed for the Lake District, and at least twice on the rutted rivers they call roads up there I remembered why cars have seatbelts at all.
The old chap in Hawkshead who reversed his van into the side of a line of traffic – my car included – luckily didn’t do any damage, but I still breathed a sigh of relief that nobody was hurt. I had a couple of words with him about his breathtaking stupidity, but I don’t think he liked either of them.
But worst of all was Mondeo Man, who dawdled onto a busy dual carriageway somewhere near Barrow. Despite it being a 70mph road, he stopped dead in the outside lane, and I’m glad my usually hopeless drum brakes actually worked for a change. The consequences of ramming a modern motor with a machine made mainly from rust and gaffer tape doesn’t bear thinking about.
I don’t believe speed is the main cause of accidents – usually it’s hitting things – but I know I’d want to be strapped in if my luck ran out. The boys in blue weren’t being unfair to my Facebook fury friend, but trying to save her life.
£60 to stay alive? Probably a price worth paying.
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