Hawick: meh.
(For foreigners, idiots and Englishmen: pronounced "Hoick")
Car: magnifico!
Rain sensitive wipers: probably the most exciting thing I have ever had ever, ever. I clapped
them the first few times. That's true. And I wasn't driving at the time. It infuriatingly didn't rain today, but the relentless sunshine melted enough snow - I know!!! Getting away from the sea results in astonishing climate changes - to cause puddles on the way home. Whoooosh goes the water off the tyres of the inevitable 4x4s. Wipe go the wipers, wipingly and automatically. Clap clap bounces the mad woman in the passenger seat.
Yes, because of course it didn't work when I was driving. But that did leave me free to clap, so that was good really.
Oh, and next time there's freakishly bad snow, don't drive on the A7. One would guess that in times of freakishly bad snow, you don't drive on the A7 unless you have to, ie you probably live thereabouts and know it well. So the stretch of about 1.5 miles with about 5 cars clearly skidded off the road and abandoned in a snowdrift, plus the one wrapped round a telegraph pole, didn't inspire confidence.
So, remember, bad snow: no A7. If you live in Galashiels/Selkirk/similar then stay at home. If you live in Hawick, sorry about that, but don't try and escape in freakish snow. I'd add "by car" but that would be unnecessary. There is no other way out other than the annual bus.
Yeah. Central Scotland is the height of sophistication. I know this. I am vastly superior even if their houses are much prettier. We have broadband. Huh.
Did I mention my car is brilliant?
"Road test":
The brakes work properly. The driver's window goes up and down smoothly. It glides over the road confidently and is only a little sluggish on steep inclines. The rest of the time it is responsive and good to drive. I like driving Vauxhalls so I am an unreliable witness, but it's jolly nice and new and shiny and gadgety and it does what you ask it without wheezing or bits falling off. Gearbox sound, suspension effective but without making the ride too dull, rain sensitive wipers amazing, very shiny.
I can't do it properly. It's new, obviously I like it; it's not a deathtrap and it's my 3rd Vauxhall so it does what I expect. It was also v cheap and the salesman put a silk sheet over it so as to unwrap it. (I fear there may have been more clapping, and at least some squealing. I don't usually clap or squeal). Which was quite wonderful and I do <3 him for that.
Grumpypants likes it, a lot, and not just because of the wipers. He has more discerning taste than I, despite driving a Fiat 500. Which is cool. We are the family that sense/taste/untold riches forgot.
Ooooh, I nearly forgot. The indicators are fabuloso, but odd. The lever returns to the start position and the cancel is automatic, but you don't think it's going to cancel and start wildly indicating the wrong way. But, once you adjust the steering wheel up so you can see the whole dashboard, and get the hang of it (took me 10 mins, so far has taken grumpypants in excess of 2 hours as he's not got it yet. I don't think. He never took back the rude names he called it) it's rather cool. A swift flick and it does the rest. Atta car.
I don't care if swift flick sounds rude. Go away.
Yeah. Purpose. Hawick will be route of choice if weather good and departure time isn't delayed.
C'est moi moi. Encore une fois. Mais maintenant, c'est tout.
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Saturday, 3 April 2010
Friday, 2 April 2010
Winning
In just over a week, we are to journey to Yorkshire, which involves one of the following choices:
1) driving directly via (famously bad) A roads
2) driving indirectly via mostly motorway, with a short section on a very bad A road. 10 miles further, 30 mins quicker.
3) motorway all the way. 67 miles longer, not sure on time.
The sensible woman of the household thinks 3 but would accept 2. Grumpypants thinks 1 is the only way.
Argument from me: the A7 (option 1) is atrocious. Anyone who has driven to Hawick can testify to this.
Also: it takes less than 2 hours to get to Carlisle for options 2/3.
Solution, coupled with the new (splendidly wonderful) toy: we are driving to Hawick today. Tomorrow, we're off to Carlisle.
Whichever is less arduous wins.
Or we take two cars on holiday, which could make sharing the driving difficult.
There's not a lot to do round here on a bank holiday, right? Many's would love to drive through the Scottish Borders. Very pretty. Very hilly. Very dull.
1) driving directly via (famously bad) A roads
2) driving indirectly via mostly motorway, with a short section on a very bad A road. 10 miles further, 30 mins quicker.
3) motorway all the way. 67 miles longer, not sure on time.
The sensible woman of the household thinks 3 but would accept 2. Grumpypants thinks 1 is the only way.
Argument from me: the A7 (option 1) is atrocious. Anyone who has driven to Hawick can testify to this.
Also: it takes less than 2 hours to get to Carlisle for options 2/3.
Solution, coupled with the new (splendidly wonderful) toy: we are driving to Hawick today. Tomorrow, we're off to Carlisle.
Whichever is less arduous wins.
Or we take two cars on holiday, which could make sharing the driving difficult.
There's not a lot to do round here on a bank holiday, right? Many's would love to drive through the Scottish Borders. Very pretty. Very hilly. Very dull.
Saturday, 2 January 2010
Snow
Snow!!! There's been a fair amount of it the last few weeks, a large proportion of which was rock hard ice making any outing an adventure in balance control. Very pretty for Christmas though.
Tonight it snowed and the result was astoundingly gorgeous. Floaty deep cottonwoolesque snow, rendering everything soft focus, muffles and slow. Life slows down prettily, light is diffused and a sense of peace is cast over everything. Driving is a dream: massive concentration, virtually empty roads with only careful, slow drivers for muffled company. Delightful, enough to recapture the joy of driving and restore faith in one's car.
Unless you drive a BMW. Heh heh.
- Posted without any claim to factual correctness or interest to any living person. Brought to you by the combined wonder of BlogPress and iPhone.
Tonight it snowed and the result was astoundingly gorgeous. Floaty deep cottonwoolesque snow, rendering everything soft focus, muffles and slow. Life slows down prettily, light is diffused and a sense of peace is cast over everything. Driving is a dream: massive concentration, virtually empty roads with only careful, slow drivers for muffled company. Delightful, enough to recapture the joy of driving and restore faith in one's car.
Unless you drive a BMW. Heh heh.
- Posted without any claim to factual correctness or interest to any living person. Brought to you by the combined wonder of BlogPress and iPhone.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
I went for a walk on a winter's day
So Mort waltzes into the room, quite the thing, unfound by me.
Where was he? asks I.
In the washing basket. comes the reply.
The washing basket? The one that's right beside the bed? The first place I looked, as a logical landing place for something falling off the bed? The one I looked under and around 25 times?
Oh yes.
I can only assume that Mort was unwilling to be read and went out. No other explanation.
At 2pm there was copious amounts of broken glass in the park. A result of Friday night teenage japes no doubt, but how appalling that it remained on Saturday afternoon. What exactly do the council do? The park is used on a Saturday almost exclusively at this time of year by families and dogwalkers. Both children and dogs could be seriously hurt by broken glass. Seriously unimpressed.
Watched Dark Knight at a friend's house and then solved the mystery of relationships. A late-ish night, driving out of a village and lightedness, was amazed that the full beam sign coincided exactly with the time I put my full beam on.
Thought process:
How could they know?
Duh, it's the end of the village, everyone will put full beam on there.
But what about during the day, or if there's other cars?
Wait a minute.
That's not a full beam sign.
It's the national speed limit sign.
Probably shouldn't be driving.
And that, as they say, was chutney.
Where was he? asks I.
In the washing basket. comes the reply.
The washing basket? The one that's right beside the bed? The first place I looked, as a logical landing place for something falling off the bed? The one I looked under and around 25 times?
Oh yes.
I can only assume that Mort was unwilling to be read and went out. No other explanation.
At 2pm there was copious amounts of broken glass in the park. A result of Friday night teenage japes no doubt, but how appalling that it remained on Saturday afternoon. What exactly do the council do? The park is used on a Saturday almost exclusively at this time of year by families and dogwalkers. Both children and dogs could be seriously hurt by broken glass. Seriously unimpressed.
Watched Dark Knight at a friend's house and then solved the mystery of relationships. A late-ish night, driving out of a village and lightedness, was amazed that the full beam sign coincided exactly with the time I put my full beam on.
Thought process:
How could they know?
Duh, it's the end of the village, everyone will put full beam on there.
But what about during the day, or if there's other cars?
Wait a minute.
That's not a full beam sign.
It's the national speed limit sign.
Probably shouldn't be driving.
And that, as they say, was chutney.
Sunday, 7 December 2008
Lost in Transgression
I've loved cars since I was old enough to think about it. My first remembered car-crush was on a Lotus Esprit that I passed on the bus on the way to school; looked like this one:
Then I moved onto BMWs, which adorned my walls as a teenager. I passed my driving test as soon as I turned 17, then had a fairly long term crush on Volkswagen.
I sort of had a Golf when I persuaded my mum she needed that when she needed a new car and then most obligingly got a job where she got a lift every day. Selfishly, when I left home, she kept it though, so many moons later, I got my first car at the age of not-quite-25. Off I toddled to ogle the Volkswagens, looking at probably a 3-4 year old Polo or similar, maybe something a little cheaper. Stopping smoking had provided the funds, all I needed to do was choose which little car was going to be mine.
I came home with a 5 month old 1.0l (973cc to be precise) Vauxhall Corsa, by mistake. Despite the woeful lack of power, it was a great little car. It had a tiny tank, but it still drove from Worcester to Kirkcaldy on one tank. The Golf, which I had been allowed one trip south to source a place to live, got as far as Knutsford going south. I transported a double bed (with foldable mattress and the base on the roof rack) , several Billy bookcases, a wardrobe, a sofa and various other items at different times in the Corsa. It did many pootles rounds Worcester between massive drives north and really did ok. The potential arrival of twins meant a bigger car was needed, as well as the fact that my husband had passed his test (finally! I taught him, you know) meant that he took ownership of the Corsa and I got the most wonderful car in the world, my Volvo. I loved that car. I had a most anxious ferry trip in a storm with my baby strapped up in the cargo area, I was so pleased to see it in one piece after that. Yet, I killed it just over a month later and that was where the whole car thing started to unravel...
My current car is a Vectra. I don't love it. I had an all consuming crush on it when I got it, it's ever such a nice colour and it is like the Corsa with power. Then bits started to creak and groan, and I had two massive skids which were freaky and thankfully caused no more damage than a broken wheel. I dream of owning a BMW.
Except, no, I don't any more. I have sort of fake daydreams where I'm the old me and I loved driving and don't care about things and it's just not real.
So I started to listen to people. Mostly people I have a giant crush on. Like Marcus Brigstocke. It went in. Something weird has happened to me and I'm starting to care about things. Cars aren't that great. We should all ride bikes, get the train, walk. Walk a bit more.
What? Hello? Where did that come from? Next you'll be a vegetarian.
Oh.
So there's me for approximately 30 years: I love cars. Technology is the future, we should endeavour to build better roads, climate change is random and chaotic and unpredictable: we should all drive BMWs. Food chain things, we breed animals to eat them, it's the way of the world, we've got teeth for eating meat; we're built to eat meat, you can't get proper nutrition from vegetables; everyone should eat steak.
A bit of wavering from the age of 31 (30-31 was mostly spent being pregnant and I didn't think anything) and insisting on organic milk, trying to buy local stuff and obsessing about seasons and buying free range everything. Not hard to go anti-plane: although it's fun to take off and land, flying is a painful experience. Horrible waits after tedious check ins with increasingly strict rules, cramped space on the plane, constant hassle to buy stuff, tedious waits for bags, etc etc. It's not fun. If you're going a relatively short distance, get the train. If you're going to Australia, then yes, perhaps the plane is the best option. If you're going to London, it's probably not. 4 x 4s are just wrong, so wrong in so many ways. Not least because they make every other car on the road less safe, so if you want a safe car, you need a 4 x 4 because other people have them and they might hit you. Ban them all. Bring back Ken.
Then wham! I'm a vegetarian. Bam! I think we should all cycle everywhere unless it's too far then we get the train. I am not practicing this at the moment, I still drive, but it makes me feel GUILTY I justify it because I take the children with me most of the time. I produced a coherent argument as to why we should have congestion charging.
Is this growing up? Why now? It's not making me happy, it's making me question everything else I thought I knew to be true. I don't like it.
Then I moved onto BMWs, which adorned my walls as a teenager. I passed my driving test as soon as I turned 17, then had a fairly long term crush on Volkswagen.
I sort of had a Golf when I persuaded my mum she needed that when she needed a new car and then most obligingly got a job where she got a lift every day. Selfishly, when I left home, she kept it though, so many moons later, I got my first car at the age of not-quite-25. Off I toddled to ogle the Volkswagens, looking at probably a 3-4 year old Polo or similar, maybe something a little cheaper. Stopping smoking had provided the funds, all I needed to do was choose which little car was going to be mine.
I came home with a 5 month old 1.0l (973cc to be precise) Vauxhall Corsa, by mistake. Despite the woeful lack of power, it was a great little car. It had a tiny tank, but it still drove from Worcester to Kirkcaldy on one tank. The Golf, which I had been allowed one trip south to source a place to live, got as far as Knutsford going south. I transported a double bed (with foldable mattress and the base on the roof rack) , several Billy bookcases, a wardrobe, a sofa and various other items at different times in the Corsa. It did many pootles rounds Worcester between massive drives north and really did ok. The potential arrival of twins meant a bigger car was needed, as well as the fact that my husband had passed his test (finally! I taught him, you know) meant that he took ownership of the Corsa and I got the most wonderful car in the world, my Volvo. I loved that car. I had a most anxious ferry trip in a storm with my baby strapped up in the cargo area, I was so pleased to see it in one piece after that. Yet, I killed it just over a month later and that was where the whole car thing started to unravel...
My current car is a Vectra. I don't love it. I had an all consuming crush on it when I got it, it's ever such a nice colour and it is like the Corsa with power. Then bits started to creak and groan, and I had two massive skids which were freaky and thankfully caused no more damage than a broken wheel. I dream of owning a BMW.
Except, no, I don't any more. I have sort of fake daydreams where I'm the old me and I loved driving and don't care about things and it's just not real.
So I started to listen to people. Mostly people I have a giant crush on. Like Marcus Brigstocke. It went in. Something weird has happened to me and I'm starting to care about things. Cars aren't that great. We should all ride bikes, get the train, walk. Walk a bit more.
What? Hello? Where did that come from? Next you'll be a vegetarian.
Oh.
So there's me for approximately 30 years: I love cars. Technology is the future, we should endeavour to build better roads, climate change is random and chaotic and unpredictable: we should all drive BMWs. Food chain things, we breed animals to eat them, it's the way of the world, we've got teeth for eating meat; we're built to eat meat, you can't get proper nutrition from vegetables; everyone should eat steak.
A bit of wavering from the age of 31 (30-31 was mostly spent being pregnant and I didn't think anything) and insisting on organic milk, trying to buy local stuff and obsessing about seasons and buying free range everything. Not hard to go anti-plane: although it's fun to take off and land, flying is a painful experience. Horrible waits after tedious check ins with increasingly strict rules, cramped space on the plane, constant hassle to buy stuff, tedious waits for bags, etc etc. It's not fun. If you're going a relatively short distance, get the train. If you're going to Australia, then yes, perhaps the plane is the best option. If you're going to London, it's probably not. 4 x 4s are just wrong, so wrong in so many ways. Not least because they make every other car on the road less safe, so if you want a safe car, you need a 4 x 4 because other people have them and they might hit you. Ban them all. Bring back Ken.
Then wham! I'm a vegetarian. Bam! I think we should all cycle everywhere unless it's too far then we get the train. I am not practicing this at the moment, I still drive, but it makes me feel GUILTY I justify it because I take the children with me most of the time. I produced a coherent argument as to why we should have congestion charging.
Is this growing up? Why now? It's not making me happy, it's making me question everything else I thought I knew to be true. I don't like it.
Sunday, 26 October 2008
2,4,6,8
Ahh, the joys of driving. There's not a lot better than driving fast and listening to the sort of music noone else will let you listen to. I'm bored something silly by the CD I've got in the car, so I dug out one with driving anthems on it. Grand. Then I got in an 80s sort of mood (which is never tasteful) and stopped to change over to 80s Film Themes, which I picked up for about a quid somewhere and which has some truly terrible stuff interspersed with songs what make me smile, probably because I was too young to know better when I got to like them.
The ones that didn't get skipped and had me singing/bellowing along (and on occasion dancing as well as you can when driving a car, mostly involving head and shoulders) today were:
Bat out of Hell
Don't Stop me Now
Neverending Story
What a Feeling
O Yeah
Nothing's Gonna Stop us Now
Ghostbusters
I'm not entirely sure where this need came from, it's a little worrying. I think I got it out of my system although I forgot to change the CD over, so I'm pretty sure when my husband went out in my car just now he will have turned the engine on to get blasted by Rainbow. Ah well.
The ones that didn't get skipped and had me singing/bellowing along (and on occasion dancing as well as you can when driving a car, mostly involving head and shoulders) today were:
Bat out of Hell
Don't Stop me Now
Neverending Story
What a Feeling
O Yeah
Nothing's Gonna Stop us Now
Ghostbusters
I'm not entirely sure where this need came from, it's a little worrying. I think I got it out of my system although I forgot to change the CD over, so I'm pretty sure when my husband went out in my car just now he will have turned the engine on to get blasted by Rainbow. Ah well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
