Medway Messenger article, 19th September 2003: Driving Me Mad

Long ago, in days of yore (well, about six months ago, actually) Princes Avenue in Walderslade was a magnet for boy-racers.  A long straight road, they could put their foot down, electrify impressionable girlfriends, and feed their own egos. 

It’s not so easy now. A couple of extra roundabouts, plus some electronic moral guardians flashing up severe ‘Slow down’ messages as you drive along. 

One of these road signs sternly told me to take the pedal off the metal last Sunday night. I wouldn’t complain, except that I was doing less than the speed limit. A bit severe, I thought. 

We have seen a proliferation of anti-speeding measures in Medway recently. Plenty of speed camera signs, even on Chatham Hill, where it is an art to keep under 30 mph going down, and a miracle to exceed 5 mph going up the hill. 

Given the state of much driving in Medway, I really don’t blame the authorities for getting tougher. The aggression behind the wheel shown by many makes it unpleasant for other drivers, and dangerous for some pedestrians. 

Last week I was parked at traffic lights.  As they went green, I moved away, but I was signalling ‘left’. The bozo in the Telewest Blueyonder van behind me thought I was too slow – as if you’re going to get above second gear in those circumstances. 

I’m also very cautious when crossing at pedestrian-operated lights when taking my dog for a walk. Not only do I wait for the lights to go red, I wait for the green flashing man. Some drivers who have pulled up get angry that I wait, but it’s a matter of safety: too often there have been drivers or motorcyclists who seem to regard the red light as purely advisory, and I’ve nearly been run down before now. 

Of course I can’t be too self-righteous about driving: my back-seat driver wife is only too willing to point out my failings – some real, and some imaginary (in my opinion). 

But I’m fascinated by the way our personalities change when we drive. I remember an old family friend. Ken Scott was the most mild-mannered, quietly-spoken of people. Except when he got behind the wheel. All I need to tell you is that his nickname was ‘Beam me up Scotty’. 

I guess he’s like many of us. Most of the time we can project an acceptable image to others we meet: friendly, caring, thoughtful, and so on. But somewhere inside lurks our Incredible Hulk, ready to burst out in anger or aggression. That ugly person inside often dictates more of our lives than we would like to admit. Painful events of the past that we have not resolved still leap out at us suddenly like a Jack-in-the-box, whose lid we thought we had firmly closed. 

Two of Jesus’ friends, James and John, had a nickname: ‘the Sons Of Thunder’. What kinds of people get a nickname like that? Perhaps they were the lager louts of two thousand years ago. 

Yet they changed. Their friendship with Jesus transformed them. Later in life John was to gain the reputation for writing more about love than any other of Jesus’ followers. 

There is an ancient legend that one day an elderly John was quizzed by a young, enthusiastic follower. “Why do you always write about love? Isn’t there anything else you can write about?”, he asked. 

John is said to have replied, “I write about love because there is nothing else – only love, love, love.” 

The Son Of Thunder had allowed Jesus to change him into the gentle apostle of love. If we are open to that, then society will notice. Even the roads will be safer.

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Copyright © David D Faulkner, 2006 except where other sources are attributed or noted as inspiration.