Sometimes in life you have one of those “bad” days. You know the type – everything you touch and everything you do seems to go wrong.
Today is one of those days.
This morning I used Emilys’ car to get to work. She needed the extra room in my car, so we did a swap. For some reason she chose to tell me that the tyres needed pumping up, so off I went early this morning to check them. I pulled into the petrol station and checked each one – they all seemed fine, although one was a little low so I added some air. Unfortunately, when I removed the hose, the air escaped again – it seemed that the valve was a bit wonky so I fiddled around with it and got it to stop. Of course, by the time I’d done that I’d lost the pressure in the tyre again so the next few minutes involved me filling the tyre with air, removing the hose, fiddling with the valve, filling the tyre again, removing the hose and then repeating the process once more.
I got to work.. late. The 40mph road works on the M6 were used as my excuse once again and I started work. The day was a little like the air hose I’d used – high pressure. I was glad when the day was done and I could go home, however the traffic was against me and progress was annoyingly slow.
I crept down the motorway, then – just as I got a little speed up – the 40mph zone approached (yes, I didn’t make it up) and the average speed cameras keep an eye on you. By the time I got off the motorway it’d gone completely dark and I was totally pi**ed off. I approach a roundabout and pulled up alongside a large articulated lorry. It was in the left-hand lane and I fully expected it to go left.
It went straight on. It ended up cutting me up, then crawling along in front of me. I was now doing about 5mph. I’d had enough – I floored it.
The road I was on is quite wide, but it’s seperated by chevrons – they’re basically white stripes that you should treat as a brick wall.
I overtook the lorry…. on the chevrons…
Dust, rubbish, stones and all manner of crap got thrown up behind me, but I was off at last. I was going a little faster than I should, so I slowed down and glanced in the rear-view mirror. There was the lorry – about 500 yards behind and…. hmm… it’s being overtaken by another car, doing the exact same thing I did…
…and look… it’s got blue…..flashing……lights on… top.
Doh. Doh, doh and doh.. This isn’t going to be good.
I watched as an extremely quick Volvo T5 flew up behind me …
I pulled in.
Both officers were fair with me, and I owned up. What can you say really? I was driving like a complete nut and I deserved everything they were going to throw at me. The one officer was a little suspicious, especially as I’d been pulled over in a popular “boy racer” area and the car itself is pretty sporty. He did his checks while I owned up to being an idiot and generally driving like I had a rocket up my arse.
But then it got worse.
For some reason, which I can’t fathom, I’m not listed on Emilys’ insurance as a named driver – I could’ve sworn blind that I’d sorted this out after wrecking my own car earlier. I thought I’d done this because – if I’d written-off Emily’s car instead of my own – I wouldn’t have got a penny off the insurance company.
But I was wrong. The officer came back and told me that I wasn’t on the insurance and I probably wasn’t insured. I couldn’t understand why – I was sure that I’d added myself as a “named driver” onto her insurance. I couldn’t think straight, and I completely forgot the fact that we’re both covered by “Fully Comprehensive” insurance, which means that you do get insured on other cars – just at a lower level (third party). When I got home it turned out that Emily is a named driver on my insurance, but not the other way around.
At the moment though I was rooted to the spot and firmly believed that I had no insurance. This didn’t bode well, and I got a proper rollocking. :( Words like “dangerous driving”, “many points” and “court dates” were mentioned. By this stage a group of kids on bikes had turned and were happily listening into the conversation. This… this is definitely a bad day.
Luckily though I was given a producer – a form to ask for the relevant documentation to be produced at a local police station. Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. :(