Shetland Life editorial, October 2013
Slow. Slow. Quick, quicker, slow.
And stop, probably without giving any indication that you’re about
to, because your brake lights are broken or you’re towing a trailer
which doesn’t, indeed never had brake lights. Or brakes. Or proper
wheels, seeing as these ones came off an old lorry you found rotting
in a field in the South Mainland and only turn when you use three
cans of WD40 on each axle. Which you do at the beginning and end of
the sailing season as you need to get the boat into and out of the
water.
Number plates? No need. Felt tip marker pen scrawled on a piece of
cardboard will do fine. And as for the ‘proper’ Ifor Williams
stock trailer you use for sheep, house moves, fetching peats and
removing large quantities of stone chips and road grit from council
stockpiles under cover of darkness, well. The electrics failed on
that a long time ago, and hanging a couple of hurricane lanterns from
the back with skein of twisted wool seems to work just fine...
But let’s not get sidetracked by Shetland trailer culture. Even
though it is vastly amusing that there is now a ‘trailer test’
young drivers have to sit before they get a chance to demolish the
rear light clusters of the Hi-Lux when reversing a horsebox-load of
inebriated Up HellyAa guizers into the hall car park.
I wish to discuss driving, generally.
It’s appalling. And it has worsened, of late, as traffic on our
wondrously pothole-less roads has increased due to the arrival of
Evil Soothmoothers in droves.
And how evil they are, coming here, drinking our beer, vomiting on
our pavements, trying unsuccessfully to steal our women, criticising
our golliwog industry and making loud gutteral noises in bars. Away
with them, I say, send them and their tiger-striped Dazzle Ship
accommodation barges off into the misty befuddlement of the
Orcades, or worse, Wick. We don’t want their money or their genetic
material! Do we? Of course, speaking as soothmoother myself, albeit
one of many years standing, sitting and yes, driving, I may be
slightly biased.
Although come to think of it, the blame for bad driving has be evenly
apportioned, in my experience. Local idiots who think pick-up trucks
are Formula One cars. Dawdling tourists in Star Kias who slow down
every time they see an attractive fencepost. Even more dawdlesome
local ancients, peering through the steering wheel at 10mph, saving
their sidelight bulbs from ‘wear’ by never switching them on
until it’s pitch dark. Crazed oil and gas executives running late
in their Range Rovers, overtaking on blind bends, tailgating hapless
commuters and hitting 120 on the Tingwall Straight. And don’t even
mention the Whalsay fishing skippers in their Rolls Royces, Ferraris,
Lamborghinis and Bugatti Veyrons. I have no idea how they get some of
those cars up the linkspan onto the ferry without ripping their
underparts off. The cars, that is.
(Incidentally, has the Tingwall Straight sunk? I don’t remember
that blind dip when I arrived here a quarter of a century ago?)
Who else is on our roads? Bad-tempered bus drivers, and those trucks
being driven at ludicrous speeds, festooned with unnecessary and
blinding fairy lights , transporting important consignments of caviar
and Champagne to Total management at Sullom Voe. The days of the
tarted-up Vauxhall Nova are long gone, but we still have nedmobiles ,
lowered Japanese saloons with sound systems blasting out One
Direction and Calvin Harris so loudly they have to keep the windows
slightly open or they’d blow the windscreens out.
Then there are the drunks. Hugging the verge, driving
oh-so-carefully, veering towards and then away from approaching
headlights, slowing down when other cars appear, slamming their
brakes when the giant rabbits appear. Be ruthless. Seriously, please
phone the police if you see one. Save them from themselves. They
don’t need a fatality on their conscience.
Obviously, you’ll pull over before using your mobile...
Finally I have three tips, for everyone who chauffeurs/chauffeuses
themselves or others around our islands. And here they are, maker of
them what you will.
(1) There is a blanket 60 mph limit on Shetland. If you drive faster
than that you are are breaking the law. No, I’m not joking.
(2) Vans owned by building firms are not exempt from this limit.
(3) Neither am I, even though I now own an elderly Mercedes 300TE
with sport gearbox and a kickdown which is capable of sending it into
temporary orbit.
(4) All trailers should have working lights, brakes and not be made
out of old safety handrails and water pipes. Unless of course you’re
in the People’s Republic of Northmavine, where the law is quite,
quite different. Obviously.
3 comments:
Could be worse, Tom. You could still live in Ayrshire and have to face the "joys" of the A737 every day.
Could be worse, Tom. You could still be living in Ayrshire and have to face the "joys" of the A737 every day.
Replace oil executives with merchant bankers, (no euphemism) 60mph with 35mph roughly that's a description of Guernsey drivers Even the bus drivers I am one all be it part-time
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