Peter O'Phile and the Kids Of Doom
Driving at lunchtime one day last week in HEAVY rain, I came across three kids standing by the side of the road, gesturing insanely at the cars passing them. After deciding they weren't desperately attempting to gain assistance for their father, injured in a bizarre fishing accident or otherwise, I realised that they were attempting to get cars to drive through the large puddle in the road beside them. Trying to cool their young heads with some refreshing dirty water. The bus in front of me declined to assist. The car in front of me also refused. I drew a line in the sand. I could not let these youngsters down. I accelerated. Hard.
Hitting a large body of water at 50 miles an hour is never a good idea. Fun yes, under many circumstances. A good idea, no. Approximately 0.5 seconds after my front wheels hit the water and instantly lost all grip, so did the back ones. My car, always a little wayward in the rain, decided on a sideways approach to further progress. I suspect he was trying to help in some crazy, car logic way, but this was to my mind not a good position to be in. Explaining to my insurance company how I had come to kill three children, or worse damage my car doing so did not appeal. After a deft piece of luck and gentle slamming of the steering wheel to full lock the car settled down to a more conventional driving attitude and I resumed my journey, leaving three cheering kids in my soaking wake.
The question came to me later. Were they really trying to get cars to crash in the rain? Has the sleepy suburb of West Bridgford raised three super-intelligent mini-monsters? Are they sitting in their respective three-bedroomed semis as I speak, plotting their next misanthropic deeds, aiming for the ultimate enslavement of Tollerton, Nottingham, The East Midlands and more?
I felt used. I had been outwitted by a group of under 11s.
My smile grew back and I descended into manic laughter. I wished them the best in their torrent of world destruction. My colleauges wondered what I was doing.
Hitting a large body of water at 50 miles an hour is never a good idea. Fun yes, under many circumstances. A good idea, no. Approximately 0.5 seconds after my front wheels hit the water and instantly lost all grip, so did the back ones. My car, always a little wayward in the rain, decided on a sideways approach to further progress. I suspect he was trying to help in some crazy, car logic way, but this was to my mind not a good position to be in. Explaining to my insurance company how I had come to kill three children, or worse damage my car doing so did not appeal. After a deft piece of luck and gentle slamming of the steering wheel to full lock the car settled down to a more conventional driving attitude and I resumed my journey, leaving three cheering kids in my soaking wake.
The question came to me later. Were they really trying to get cars to crash in the rain? Has the sleepy suburb of West Bridgford raised three super-intelligent mini-monsters? Are they sitting in their respective three-bedroomed semis as I speak, plotting their next misanthropic deeds, aiming for the ultimate enslavement of Tollerton, Nottingham, The East Midlands and more?
I felt used. I had been outwitted by a group of under 11s.
My smile grew back and I descended into manic laughter. I wished them the best in their torrent of world destruction. My colleauges wondered what I was doing.
posted by Peter O'Phile at
7:51 pm
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