In Australia there are only three driving speeds – Go, Stop, and On Your Roof.
Honestly, more people get injured in car accidents per capita here than anywhere else in the world, well except for Afghanistan, but that’s mostly down to roadside bombs, and blokes blowing themselves and their Toyota up in crowded markets on their way to see 40 virgins (the after-life is probably the only place these days you’d find 40 virgins...).
We had a bit of rain last week and there were three big car accidents in two days between our house and the end of the road. Admiteddly it’s a winding road and it’s all downhill but it’s in good nick and wide.
The first day it was a mother from school who'd spun off the road in her Toyota Landcruiser and knocked over one gigantic wooden power pole. "I didn't want to put the brakes on," she told me the following day, "in case the car tipped over...". The cops were there and I had to stop to let the ambulance get out of the verge. An old cop who looked like Clint Eastwood ambled over to explain what was happening and said, "Makes you wonder how they do it, sometimes."
Crasher has got a new vehicle already, the Toyota being a write-off, what with its engine being in the back seat. The new car – which may mean little to you European folks – is a bright red Holden Clubsport R8. It looks like a fighter plane, has a 6.8-litre V8 engine and will reach a power pole in about four seconds. Good choice, madam.
The following day someone had come down the hill and on a wide sweeping bend had spun their car, hit the bank, gone through an electrified fence (bet that gave them a shock) and tipped the vehicle on its roof in the middle of the field. The same copper was there. I had to stop to let the fire engine reverse out of the field. The copper nodded to me and came and leaned in the window and said drily, "Hello again. Now, today we have a very impressive one indeed. Notice the upside down position."
"Yes, I see what you mean. But what happened to the goats?"
"My colleagues are trying to round them up.” He looked off in the distance to the smoky hills and said quietly. “Some have made it to town." He looked at me and smiled bleakly, “It seems one of them has run out in front of a bus, which hit a car.”
-
- http://poppycock.blog.co.uk/
- 06.11.2009 @ 07:47:35 am
-
- 06.11.2009 @ 07:57:57 am
Ah yes, no Sunday drivers here. Top speed is what it is all about and in this neck of the woods if you don't have a 4WD with at least a V6 engine, or alternatively a car with a V8 engine, well you don't deserve to be out on the road. The other day a car was tailgating me as I drove 20km over the speed limit down the country lane. It was like she'd got stuck on my tow hitch. At one stage she shook her fist at me. I stopped at the school and so did she. When she got out her police uniform insignia winked in the sunlight. She said, "Mate, you need to move it."
Munzly
I do enjoy your observations of the local 'wildlife' especially as they are often so much in contrast to Norfolk UK. Our persistent traffic problem is 'Sunday' drivers, who only use their cars once a week to 'go out for a ride' at 35 MPH in the middle of the road and are immune to blaring horns, flashed headlights and extreme cursing. I suspect that an encounter between one of your 'Toyota Mums' and a Norfolk Sunday Snail, would put the Snail into orbit tout suite!