Tuesday, 20 October 2009
I’d barely passed him when I saw a Hiace van coming up behind me, parked on my tail and flashing me to pull over. I was travelling at a carefully calibrated 119km/h and the road’s speed limit at that point is 100km/h. It is customary for Dubai Police to set radars at 20km/h above the limit, wot they calls 'the cushion'. So if I was being a tad naughty, my good friend in the Hiace was being unusually naughty.
I hate minivans. I hate that maniacal morons with single digit brain-cell counts and Lemmy’s taste for speed drive them, let alone that they have a high centre of gravity and frequently add to that inherent instability by being packed to the gunwales with workers.
I’d like to see ‘em taken off the roads – they caused 21% of all traffic fatalities in Dubai this year, including the horrific accident in Lahbab, the desert truck stop further out towards Hatta on the very road I was on. At the least I’d like to see ‘em confined to the inside lane.
Meanwhile, matey boy was giving me the full ‘I’m a sheikh, move over’ treatment, literally within a couple of feet of my bumper, his lights pumping.
So I did a bad thing, people. I could see the fixed speed camera looming into sight ahead of us and I graciously pulled over to let Speedy Keen past. He was hunched over the wheel, his tongue out and drooling as he passed me by, his cargo looking down at me as they shot past.
I watched his arms fly up in the universal ‘I don’t believe it! Why me? Of all the damn things!’ gesture.
And I was glad. And I did show him I was glad.
Sorry. Two traffic-related posts in one month is the sign of a rogue, but that's how the dice fall sometimes...
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