Dom Davis (The Blog)

Driving home from work last night¹ I got to witness 3 idiots in cheap, little hatchbacks almost literarily ram their way into the queue of traffic by the airport. These yoofs² has shot down the outside lane at well over the speed limit, slammed on the anchors when the merge arrows appeared and forced people to perform near emergency stops as the dove into the tiniest of gaps to avoid the also breaking oncoming traffic.

These prats then proceeded to literally swarm round the back of the car in front, desperate to overtake. The one attempt that was made was foiled due to the inability of cars like that to do 60 to anything appreciably faster than 60 in a small space of time. I know, I drive one. Another flurry of break lights and into the rather large gap the driver following these morons was leaving.

The next bit of interesting driving was undertaking the car in front on the roundabout while it tried to turn left. I think he knew it was going to happen so he let them scream off before taking his exit.

The three cars in front of me all went left at the roundabout leaving me the lead following car behind the idiots so I decide to keep up the best I can to see what they get up to. Little Po shot out of the roundabout and was soon gaining on the morons, who were now swarming behind a van that wasn’t exactly being slow. 500 yards on and the van starts breaking and indicating right. As he pulled into the turning lane I saw the final part of ridiculous driving. Two cars undertook the van, the last one overtook him so this poor sod had vehicles flying past him on both sides.

What really made me laugh was that I was now behind them and, knowing how Po responds, was actually able to keep up with them until I gave up at 65. I hope for their sakes they were in 1 and 1.2l cars because otherwise they just got pwned by Po

I didn’t see them after that. I was rather hoping they would get stuck behind someone doing 40, which you so often do down that road³, or maybe see them in a ditch somewhere as they were definitely racing and were probably hitting a ton down a road that’s not designed to support it. It’s little wonder car insurance for teenaged boys is so expensive.

¹ Yes, I know. Sucks to be me.
² because, let’s face it, it’s only going to be idiot teenage boys who have just passed their test driving in cars like that in a manner that proves that they are just dickheads.
³ as I did 5 minutes later.

Im so very tempted to start a website called youdrivelikeanasshole.com where I can vent my frustration at the absolute cocks out there on the road.

This weekend we’ve had the bike that didn’t like the fact I was slowing down so tried to overtake, only to notice the flashy yellow thing on the right of the car whereupon he aborted his manoeuvre and allowed me to turn. We’ve had the guy doing 53, regardless of the speed limit, refusing to go and faster when we hit 60 areas, and yet when someone started doing 50 in font of them they started falling back, accelerating very hard and braking sharply right up the arse of that car in order to make them go faster. There’s been multiple “I’m going to do 40 in a 60″ people, a twat of an estate agent driving right up people’s arses, lane hopping, speeding, jumping lights and brushing his hair, some moron ‘reserving’ spaces at a carpark. And not forgetting the van driver who was so far up my arse I couldn’t see a thing (I ended up slowing down to about 20, but instead of overtaking he shot down a side road, only to pull out in front of me 10 minutes later and scream off doing 60+ down a road that’s 40 for a reason). As he charged down roads that are not quite single track, but fairly tight when passing, at least two cars coming the other ways were forced to break hard and dive for the verge to let him past. The great irony being he never got that much further ahead as he was having to brake so hard for everything and I’d just catch up.

So yes, a website, where I can record as much detail as possible about each and every moron I encounter. And then, when I’m elected into power: death squads. Or failing that a sternly written email to The Daily Mail

This weekend is the first time I’ve driven a long distance on fast roads by myself whilst playing music (I usually don’t have anything playing so I can concentrate, but I’ve got at lot more confident driving). I can now attest to the fact that certain tracks do indeed increase the ‘leadness’ of ones foot, add at least 10mph to the proceedings (would have been more if it weren’t for the fact I’m paranoid about speeding, and that Po doesn’t really like doing over 80) and make you a much more aggressive driver, as the Audi driver who tried to cut me up will attest. Still, he was in a turn right lane and I did have +5 acceleration due to Banging Tunes so his attempt to cut in front of me was thwarted by a little red car with an engine screaming in pain while it’s driver shouted “Fuck you Mr Audi driver!”. I was, of course, summarily overtaken by him 400 meters later, but I think my point stands.

There was a downside though. I was listening to a playlist on my iPhone, which was mounted on the windscreen for use as a satnav, so changing track doesn’t happen. Being stuck in a queue of traffic behind a lorry doing 40 in a 50 is annoying. Add music that makes you want to do Mach 3 makes it near intolerable. They should allow you to rate music as motorway, main road, country lane or urban driving and then have the satnav serve up the relevant tracks depending where you are

So this morning I got the train to work, collected the car from the work and drove to the hospital. It’s the school holidays. The roads are empty, the journey uneventful… until I got to the Carpark. There there was a queue. Of the two outpatients carparks one was blocked off (and full by the looks of it) and there were 7 cars waiting to get into the other. A lady in a high visibility jacket was getting cars to stack at the entrance nicely. Once I joined the queue, however, my fears of not being able to get a space were allayed. There were lots of spaces in this carpark. There was obviously just a glut of people arriving…

…or not. After a few minutes the lady in the high visibility jacket went to go see why none of the cars were moving. The reason was simple. There, right by the entrance, was a family getting into a car to leave. Not wanting to pick one of the millions of other spaces the person at the head of the queue was waiting for them to leave.

The family leaving had a frail person in a wheelchair. It was, understandably, taking them time to pack up and get ready. Meanwhile we waited with The Idiot blocking us. Even with the lady waving them on and tapping on the window to get them to move they resolutely stayed put. Meanwhile the queue grew larger.

Finally, after 5 minutes, with a queue of 30 or so cars behind us the blockage was cleared and we were able to stream into the carpark. I was able to park in my choice of bays a scant 10 seconds further walk than the one the moron had held everyone up for and the queue had drained by the time I’d walked back to the entrance.

So, Mr Moron with the numberplate ‘I KOL’, you, sir, are an idiot of the highest order.

I, like many others, hate mondays. So much so I’ve even gone and created a special category for it. Mondays are evil. Usually it’s just a background malevolence but on occasion they attack with extreme viciousness just to remind you they’re there. Yesterday was such a day.

I have a hospital appointment on the 12th of April. I’ve known about this for months. Work has been informed, a car parking space has been booked at the work carpark. Reminders have been put in calendars. Alarms have been set. All I have to do is drive there on the day, drive back to work, finish my day and drive home. Aside from the fact I hate driving into work nothing could be simpler.

No. From across the void the insidious touch of Monday can be felt, whispering in my ear “You have a hospital appointment on Monday”. And so it is that my April goes: Friday the 8th, The Weekend, Monday the 12th. A Monday that sees me waking tired, crawling out of bed and getting ready.

By 7:20 I’m logged into work remotely. This disturbs The Zozo on her day off but needs must and the hospital appointment means I’ll be in late.

By 8:00 I’m out of the house and taking the car to work. A car that The Zozo was going to use.

By 8:15 I realise it’s the 11th. My appointment it tomorrow and Monday has, in one fell swoop, buggered up my day, The Zozos day and had my drive into work unnecessarily. Not bad for that time in the morning. Monday had not finished there though.

Thankfully the drive to work was uneventful. It’s the school holidays so the roads were peaceful. By the afternoon I was feeling rough though. I suspect I was just tired but by 3 I had a raging headache. I thought it would be best to leave the car at work overnight and get the train home. Monday thought otherwise. I had no coat, Monday had a big raincloud. Mercifully Monday didn’t get wind of my change of plan until too late and I spent my journey home racing the rain. I won. Just.

Feeling spiteful Monday got it’s revenge by letting the milk leak in the fridge overnight. I hate Mondays.

No blog yesterday as I had to drive into work. Unlike blogging and commuting on a train, blogging and commuting in a car first work. At least not if you’re the driver.

On the way back home the car went beep and the little petrol warning light went on. Since I normally fill the car up well before this happens, and since we don’t drive all that often, the beeping confused the hell out of me initially. A few seconds later and I’d worked it out and was being told the car now had a range of 49 miles. No problem, the garage I was going to stop at was less than 10 miles away.

5 minutes later at 50mph and the car was telling me 52 miles range. Clearly not the most accurate of fuel gauges and/or algorithms. I’ve no idea what it was telling me when I finally pulled into the garage (probably 100+ miles) but I don’t think I was in any danger of running dry. That said, it was the emptiest it’s been in a long time.

Now if you’d asked me there and then how much it costs to fill the tank I’d have told you just over £30. There’s a bit left in there so probably £32. Nope. In went the hose, up went the trigger, in went the fuel. £30 came and went, rapidly followed by £32, £34, £36 and £38. When it hit £40 I did a quick check just in case I was trying to fill the wrong car. I mean, £40 worth of fuel is for big cars, not little ones. *clunk*. The tank was finally full. £42.18!

So it would seem that, from dry, it now costs somewhere in the region of £45 to fill the tank. Maybe I’d better actually start taking notice of petrol prices instead of just whacking in fuel when I’m near a garage and the tank is two-thirds empty.

Goron, I dread to think how much your car costs to fill. Or how much pressing the loud peddle must cost.

I know you’re all¹ dying to know if we made it back OK and I can happily say we did. Despite dire warnings of severe weather, predictions that this was going to be the busiest weekend for travel of the year, and stories of various motorways that we needed to use being closed the journey was, in fact, for the most part quite boring.

Starting off was fun. There was only a couple of inches of snow but the road we were on was an infrequently travelled B road which may or may not have been gritted, but was certainly very snowy with lots of ice in the tracks made by vehicles that had proceeded us.

On our journey up I had discovered that I drove down this road far too slowly for the Welsh, who proceeded to flash me, bully me and generally be a nuisance until they could overtake me. That’s fine, but it was dark, icy and I didn’t know the road so I was sticking to 40 on the bendy bits. On the way back even the people in four wheel drive vehicles seemed to accept my choice of 20-30mph with nary a complaint.

5 miles into the journey we emerged from the B road to an A road. The tracks were wider and were devoid of ice, although on sections where it was dual carriageway only one lane was passable. Still, improved conditions and less windy roads meant speeds could creep up to 40.

As we hit the M54 the slow lane was pretty much clear. Speeds increased to 60, although some people had decided that this wasn’t enough. One moron in an 4×4 pulled out into the snow and ice covered fast lane and tried to overtake. They got as far as accelerating, skidding and scaring the crap out of themselves before meekly pulling in behind me again and letting me set the pace.

By the time we hit the M6 the roads were clear and 70 was both perfectly possible and safe. The roads stayed like this until Thursford where we made a stop of a few hours to see the Christmas Spectacular² before heading home. During the show the snow had begun falling in Norfolk so the final part of the journey was again done slowly and with care.

Personally I enjoy the challenge of driving in icy and snowy conditions so the 30 minutes or so it added to the journey wasn’t an issue for me. I suspect it would have been if we were stranded for hours not moving but thankfully we avoided that. Not sure the same can be said for some of my friends though.

¹And by all I am, of course, excluding those I’ve already spoken to… and those who’ve read Facebook… which leaves 1 of you I think.

²Well worth going. You’ve probably missed out on 2010, but if you book early for 2011 you can get good seats.

Today The Zozo, Po and I are in Crew Green, Wales. It’s only just Wales, but it’s Wales nonetheless. Tomorrow we need to be in Thursford, Norfolk. That’s 200 miles away, or four and a quarter hours drive. Or at least it would be if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s going to be snow. Lots of it.

I have two weapons to deploy here. The first is simply setting off early. If we get back in good time we’ll just go home first. The second weapon is satnav with live traffic updates.

The live traffic updates is something I pay a subscription fee for but it is well worth it. It receives updates on the traffic conditions for your journey and plans alternative routes round problem areas. For example, yesterday the A14 was moving very slowly. The satnav informed us it could save 16 minutes taking an alternative route and off we went, skirting round the jam. I’m hoping that it will earn it’s money and stop us from bring stranded anywhere.

Just in case there’s also blankets in the car and we’ll stock up with provisions.

The M6 at rush hour is an interesting beast. Heading west you hit the old M6 first. Traffic. Delays. Signs saying there are queues. Stop, start, stop start. As you approach the toll road the marketing kicks in. It’s not obvious marketing, but it’s marketing nonetheless. There’s a sign. M6, it says, severe delays. Not just delays, oh no, severe delays. And if the stop start has just been delays then what are severe delays going to be like? The sign goes on to say M6 Toll, clear. Yes, no delays at all, all clear, and just a little toll to pay for the privilege. A little latter a further sign tells us that the toll is £5.

Five quid!

Shortly afterwards we’re reminded about the severe delays. We’re also reminded of the clear state of the toll road.

As the junction nears you can see the queues of traffic going down the old M6, and the clear entry to the new M6 toll. Needless to say we paid.

The traffic is a marketing ploy. It has to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if they paid people to drive really slowly, crash, breakdown and generally bugger up the M6 just to drive traffic down the new road. Regardless, it worked

The astute among you will have noticed no blog this morning. This was due, in the main, to me driving to work. I usually blog on my way into work, something that is not really compatible with driving, so you’ve had to wait until I was home.

Driving, especially when I’m alone in the car, is something I still find a little stressful. I only passed my test a little over a year ago so I’m still very much a new driver and I don’t drive every day so I’m still getting used to some things. It’s partly for this reason that most hire firms require 2 years on your license before they’ll let you hire a car. Quite right too, although, herein lies a small loophole.

At the age of 17 (or maybe 18, I can’t remember now) I failed my driving test for the second time in rather spectacular fashion which rather put me off driving. 17 years later I decided to learn how to drive again which required over 30 hours of lessons before I was ready to take my test. That’s pretty much the same amount of lessons a new driver would require.

Now, let us just assume, for one second, that I had passed my driving test all those years ago. Let us further assume that, for whatever reason, I never drove again until now. I would, technically, be allowed to hire a car despite the fact that I would be little better than a brand new learner driver.  It’s a situation that is a little bit ludicrous.