reply to post by Akragon
Winters here in the South of England, are hardly anything to write home about by your standards. However, let me tell you about an incident that I
was witness to during one of the more severe winters I have been party to in my adult life. It will make you giggle.
I was walking home one morning, a dark, frozen windy morning, about minus thirteen degrees, forty mile an hour wind with appropriate wind chill. You
get the picture. I had already walked about a mile and a half out of the three mile journey, and was enjoying myself immensely (I love being out in
what we would call crazy weather). Snow was building up on the bandana I had covering my face, and on the peak of my cloth cap, which I had pulled low
over my brow to keep the wind from giving me a craniotomy.
The snow, which was still comming in pretty fast, was about four inches thick at this point (which again, seems like, IS nothing at all, until you
realise that we had been very unlucky for some years previous, in that we had NO snow to speak of until that year in our area). Anyway, I was walking
down a tree lined drive, which runs down the side of a golfing range, when I noticed about fifty metres distant from me, tail lights. I had heard the
sounds of a tortured engine from around the corner, but it was only now that I laid eyes on this vehicle.
It was making very little progress, or rather, making progress very slowly. So slowly was it moving, that I, on foot, caught up to it. I realised
upon closer inspection that this vehicle was not any mere conveyance, but was a Ford Escort RS Cosworth. This is a car which has long been the object
of affection for petrolheads (or gearheads if one happens to be the wrong side of the ocean :p ), and was at one point a moderately successful rally
car, although it never won anything much apart from a few stages here and there. Anyway, the douche driving it obviously had no idea what he was
doing, because he had his foot BURIED in that throttle. The cars wheels were spinning like crazy, gaining no traction, and at the speed they were
moving, it was clear even to me, a non-driver, that he would have been shot clear down the road and probably into someones garden, if not their living
room, if they had bit the tarmac rather than the ice and slush on the road.
Even I knew, that what he should have been doing was to use as little throttle as possible, in order to give the tires time to bite the surface. As I
gained ground on the car, walking down the pavement, I reached the point where I could see into the drivers side-window. The gentleman driving was of
the baseball cap and eyebrow peircing variety, and had proven already, that he was pretty clueless, especially considering his choice of motor car (a
vehicle for proper enthusiasts). However, if there was ever any doubt that the fellow was a total fool, he spied me walking down the street, over
taking him and his badassed machine, and with the engine at full throttle, takes both hands off the wheel, extends them out, and gives them a little
wiggle, as if to say "I know right? What can you do?". Now, Its one thing to recklessly slam your foot down with both hands on the wheel, but what he
was doing... I have no words.
edit on 10-11-2013 by TrueBrit because: correcting grammar.
edit on 10-11-2013 by TrueBrit because: REASONS!!!