Monday, April 26, 2010
Cramp in a cramped Mini, a tale of agonising pain and woe
It felt like my thigh muscle had suddenly and spasmodically become wrenched from my bone. Looking back on it now, I see there were three significant problems. First, I had cramp. Second, I'd never had it before and thought that something was seriously, perhaps fatally, wrong. Third, I was in the rear seat of a tiny little mini on a motorway with no immediate prospect of getting out, stretching my legs and enjoying some pain relief.
It may sound melodramatic, but it really was one of those formative and traumatic experiences that mark, nay scar, our childhood. To this day, if someone tells me they have or have had cramp, I cannot help but hyperempathise to what must seem an insane degree.
This is why I can almost (and I say almost) understand the actions of a South Yorkshire motorist who was recently prosecuted for driving with one of his legs hanging out the window after suddenly being afflicted with "agonising cramp".
Although the driver avoided a prison sentence for his reckless act, he was ordered to perform 200 hours of community service.
The prosecutor in the case explains what police saw, "He was driving along the third lane or fast lane at 70mph. He appeared to be sat very low in his seat as though he was reclining backwards," he said.
"The officers saw part of his right leg and foot sticking out of the driver's window. As he went along the brake lights of his vehicle came on.
"He clearly touched the controls with his left foot because his right foot was still through the driver's window."
"It is not the sort of activity which is conducive to road safety," said the judge. Nor is it, I imagine, the kind of act that is conducive to getting a cheap car insurance quote.
Image © waldo_swiegers, via Flickr under Creative Commons Licence
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Driving lessons and butterflies both inside and outside the stomach
This week many news outlets carried a story about a learner driver from Oxford who managed to flip her instructor's car on only her second lesson; a "freak incident" that won't exactly fill her with confidence for her future as a motorist.
As so much of learning to drive is about confidence, as I know from bitter experience, I can't help but fear the worst for the poor woman involved.
It was on only my first foray onto the road that I was very nearly side-swiped by a speeding motorist who was recklessly fleeing from police pursuit. The incident set me back a long way and to this day I maintain that it delayed me taking my test by around six months.
But then my family has history when it comes to driving tests and driving lessons. My mother, never the most reassuring of drivers, gave up driving when I was not yet ten. But this was not before she'd mounted curbs, ploughed into hedges and reversed into several trees. Very early on in life my sisters and I were conditioned to believe that even the shortest of drives would inevitably result in a near-death experience.
Some years later, my maternal grandmother told me that my mother had only succeeded in passing her test (at the 12th time of asking) because the examiner, a superstitious fellow and friend of my grandmother's, had decided not risk his luck on a 13th attempt. "I'm not getting in a car with her again. She's passed," he's reputed to have said.
Then there is my sister. She failed her driving test after swerving into a ditch in order to avoid colliding with an Adonis Blue butterfly.
I'm just grateful that familial driving history plays no part in calculating the price of a motor insurance policy.
Image © Pengannel via Flickr under Creative Commons Licence
As so much of learning to drive is about confidence, as I know from bitter experience, I can't help but fear the worst for the poor woman involved.
It was on only my first foray onto the road that I was very nearly side-swiped by a speeding motorist who was recklessly fleeing from police pursuit. The incident set me back a long way and to this day I maintain that it delayed me taking my test by around six months.
But then my family has history when it comes to driving tests and driving lessons. My mother, never the most reassuring of drivers, gave up driving when I was not yet ten. But this was not before she'd mounted curbs, ploughed into hedges and reversed into several trees. Very early on in life my sisters and I were conditioned to believe that even the shortest of drives would inevitably result in a near-death experience.
Some years later, my maternal grandmother told me that my mother had only succeeded in passing her test (at the 12th time of asking) because the examiner, a superstitious fellow and friend of my grandmother's, had decided not risk his luck on a 13th attempt. "I'm not getting in a car with her again. She's passed," he's reputed to have said.
Then there is my sister. She failed her driving test after swerving into a ditch in order to avoid colliding with an Adonis Blue butterfly.
I'm just grateful that familial driving history plays no part in calculating the price of a motor insurance policy.
Image © Pengannel via Flickr under Creative Commons Licence