...By wot I did the other day, climbing in the back of the car, of a post I posted in the past which, even back then, related to old age and, on reflection, I now realise I was still somewhat of a pup at just 66. Okay, a rapidly aging pup. Anyhoo, here it is and it’s a situation many of you could be all too familiar with. Enjoy{?}.
You will be familiar with the Highway Code edict regarding manoeuvring round and round a roundabout, right? Give way to traffic coming from the right, right? Today was not a regular roundabout kind o’ day.
This ‘non regular’ incident took place at a roundabout close to home with two fairly busy roads crossing at a roundabout of super small size. In fact the central bit you go round is no more than a white painted, slightly raised lump.
What can possibly go wrong? What can go wrong is when four old guys roll up to the roundabout simultaneously and all want to turn right round the roundabout. You see where this is going? Yup, who gets to go first.
I stopped and waited for the old guy to my right to make his move. Sadly, that old guy was waiting for the old guy to his right to make his move who, in turn, was waiting for the old guy to his right to do his thing.
Time passed and it slowly became apparent we had a roundabout standoff which is every driver under 60’s worst nightmare; to be stuck behind four old guys in front at a roundabout standoff.
With traffic starting to backup behind us old guys at an alarming rate, my little nest of vipers inquiring if we would be sitting here for all eternity, actually, she said, ‘Is this it then?’, you’ll be proud to learn ol’ Foggy threw old age driving over-caution to the wind, took the bull by its nettles, girded up my loins, not a pretty sight, and made my move. Slowly.
At the sight of movement from my side the other three old guys also cautiously moved off and, all too briefly, we joyously joined together in a synchronised rolling-round-a-round-a-bouting reel of incredible beauty.
Poetry in 10 MPH motion no less, accompanied by happy smiles and much hand waving between participants. Anyone familiar with the intricacies of Morris Dancing will understand and appreciate this manoeuvre.
After this all too brief moment of motoring bonding we sadly bade farewell and, with one last toot of our horns, continued on our lonely journeys with only happy but rapidly fading memories of the great Sunday roundabout standoff left.
Quote; Robin Williams.
Why do they call it rush hour when nothing moves?
2 comments:
You are not that old.
I would have forgotten which roundabout exit I wanted and sedateley exited by the wrong one. Probably the one I arrived on.
Doonhamer,
Good point. Thanks, I feel younger already. Having said that, it'll be stuck in my head and next time I'm on a roundabout I'll probably do exactly that.
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