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Okay matey's

I'm faintly reluctant to do this since all I seem to do recently is tell stories of my irresponsibility.

i.e.

“and then I spun…”

“and then I overtook him at 125…”

but, ah well, here goes.

A bit of scene setting. When I was 18 and resitting my A-levels I worked for Avis Rentacar in Belfast. We used to do a lot of trips from Dublin to Belfast either to collect cars left there by customers or deliver them for customers.

Mostly these trips happened on a Sunday morning but occasionally, as in this case, it was a Thursday afternoon. We used to do some absolutely ludicrous speeds. The record was 1 hour and 23 minutes for the 100 mile trip. Bear in mind that this is a route with very little motorway, maybe ten miles, although that has changed now. You should also bear in mind that many of the roads in the south are fairly wide and they have a fairly “relaxed” view to overtaking. i.e. you can charge down the middle of the road and oncoming traffic will pull tighter to the verge and let you through without having a light-flashing canary. It should also be noted that until recently it was very difficult to get done for a motoring offence if you were based in the North.

Anyway on this day I got a Sierra 1.8L. Not perfect (2.9 Granadas were perfect) but still not far off my ideal choice. They were manual and very predictable at the limit. Basically it is these cars that I learnt how to drive in. (For drive read slide)

We used to travel in small convoys and effectively it was a race. My mate, Gordon somebody (I forget) was well in front having got his car cleared out of the terminal well before me. I was trying to catch him and was officially driving like a mad-man.

Through Drogheda, a small town south of the border there is a reasonably clear strecth of dual carriageway. My big trick at this time was to hold cars in slides round the outside of unsuspecting punters at roundabouts etc. while holding a stony glare on the road ahead. As this road bends up to head out of town I performed this trick round the outside of a Toyota Carina. Unfortunately the lights up ahead caught us both. I glanced over to ensure they were not police (gardai as Jonathan rightly points out) Two scruffy old men so reasonably sure. And yet they jump the lights before they go green.

I sit on their tail as we head out of town and try a couple of ridiculous overtaking attempts. We start really shifting and I eventually get past them whilst they are overtaking someone else. At this point I am doing 110. Ireland had a blanket 55 speed limit in those days.

I hurtle up the road and come flying round a corner at maybe 90 just at the edge of traction, nice four wheel drift, and see a bike at the side of the road in the distance. Drop to 55mph and sure enough it was a motorbike gardai. He looks hard at me. Poo my pants as I go past him and sit at 55 for a while but he gives no chase.

Speed back up, absolutely flat out, until I get into Dundalk. Brake very heavily behind a lorry which is parked in my lane. Think he's just sitting there so pull out round him, wheels spinning, and an old gardai jumps out and waves me back in.

Oh Shite, thinks I. The lorry is waved on and I pull up. I'm full of cocky 18 year bollox and say sorry for pulling out so fast.

He is purple with rage and says “Do you know why I'm standing here?”

Me - “No”

Him - “its for you you wee shite, we've closed the road to try and catch you”

Me - “……………..” Thinking oh fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck“

Him - ”Get out of the car and give me the keys“

Me - ”…………“ getting out of car and realising that this time its big doodoos.

Keys taken off and into the station at the side of the road.

He starts ranting and shouting at me half an inch from my face. ”What age are you lad“, Me ”18“, What sort of car is that - a 2 litre????” Me “a 1.8” Him “far too ****ing powerful for a lad like you”

and then the classic

“do you know what the spped limit is down here?” Me, “er yes 55mph”, him now apoplectic with rage and spitting in my face.

“YES 55, NOT A HUNDRED AND FUCKING FIFTY FIVE”

and then he slaps me in the face! I'm a bit of a mess now and he tells me to phone and try and get £200 bail or I'm spending the evening in the cell.

Thankfully at this moment his boss arrives in, who was the guy driving the Carina. He explains what they did and why they wanted to catch me (too dangerous to give chase!)

I whimper about needing the job to get me through college and how disappointed my family we be if I have to leave. I also concoct a reason for speeding (back for a lecture, been working since 6.00 a.m. to fund myself etc, etc.) and generally look remorseful and apologetic.

They take down all my details and photocopy my license. Phone the police up North while I'm there to keep an eye out for me and lo and behold I'm out and free.

Very, very, very lucky.

So thats it.

John (older and a wee tiny bit wiser)