Cussedness
The natural cussedness of things in general.
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Local Road Rage
The main road through my village, the A62, has a new claim to fame: it’s the fourth most dangerous in the UK, according to the entertainingly-monikered EuroRAP (that’s the European Road Assessment Program, and, sadly, nothing to do with 2Unlimited). We also enjoy the dubious distinction of being the worst performer in the top fifteen or so British death-trap tarmac strips compared with the previous monitoring period, having got a whole 63% more lethal over the past couple of years. To top it off, our main group of victims is composed of hapless pedestrians and cyclists, rather than the idiots behind the steering wheels doing the crashing; this is hardly surprising, as much of the road in question is built-up, 30 mph, and frequented by impatient tailgaters and the sort of drivers who slow right down for the four or five Gatsos on the route before blazing off at 20 over the limit.
I’ve just started going out on my old bike again, in an attempt to get back into some sort of shape, and I was concentrating on improving my time over a section of the road in question. I think I’ll revise my route.
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I thought that was your road when they mentioned it on the radio.
Certainly, driving it in the fog was a pretty scary experience, especially when those behind us insisted on overtaking when you couldn’t see where the road went, let alone if anything was coming.
That said, it’ll be perfect training for cycling in London :)
2007-06-26 12:38