Automatic for the People

According to a recent 'fact' I heard on morning television (so it must be true), nine out of ten new drivers learn to drive in an automatic car. They can't actually drive a manual.

Now, I know I've gone on about this before, but I don't consider sitting in a seat and looking out of the window occasionally, so as to know where to steer or turn on the windscreen wipers (although some cars do that for you autonatically too), to be driving.

The breakfast show interviewed an 'expert' about this issue. He claimed that one in ten people like driving and they probably drive a European car. The other ninety percent just want to get from A to B as quickly and comfortably as possible. If they don't have to change gear or worry about the clutch pedal, they can enjoy their coffee more.

I'm sorry, what? Aren't they meant to be driving? Aren't there places where you can pull over and stop for a rest and a coffee if you need/ want one to break up the journey? Are you going to say they prefer to have their hands free so they can do their hair or play games on their i-Phone?

This is the unfortunate legacy of the dreaded multi-tasking; the scourge of the twenty-first century. We expect to be able to do more than one thing at once, which is fine if you are watching morning television and eating your breakfast, folding the washing, getting dressed or cleaning your teeth.

But when you are driving, you are supposedly in charge of a potentially lethal weapon and you should be giving it your full attention.If you have to remain alert to choose which gear to use, then so much the better. If you can't drive a manual, you can't drive.

Friday Five: Desirable Knowledge

5 Things I'd Like To Learn:

1. Ballroom dancing
2. Rally car driving
3. Spanish
4. Mushroom identification (so I don't poison myself)
5. Patience (the virtue: I know how to play the card game)

Friday Five:Mini Steps to Recovery

Six weeks ago I ruptured my medial head gastrocnemius playing football. Apparently it is a textbook injury (I prefer the word 'textbook' to 'common') and the rheabilitation period is twelve weeks, made in incremental steps.

I spent two weeks in a cast with my leg totally immobilised, and hobbling around on crutches, and no, sadly, I didn't look anywhere near as good as Emily Blunt. I am going to the physio two or three times a week and doing stretching and strengthening exercises for about two hours a day. It's getting better slowly and steadily, but it will be another six weeks before I am allowed to run again (and I'm not sure if and/or when football will be permitted again).

Yesterday I returned the crutches to the hospital with a great sense of satifaction, and it led me to think about injuries and recovery and the things we (or certainly, I) take for granted.

5 Mini Steps to Recovery:

1. Being able to carry stuff, particularly drinks, particularly hot drinks - have you any idea how long it takes to move a cup of coffee from room to room by putting it on a surface, picking up the crutches, hopping forward a step, putting down the crutches, moving the cup forward a few inches, picking up the crutches, hopping forward a step, etc? About twenty minutes. Of course, I could just lean in the kitchen and drink it standing up, but that somewhat defeats the purpose.
2. Being able to stand up - hopping around art galleries or racing through airport terminals is simply not possible so although most of the time crutches are manageable, there were occasions when I needed to be in a wheelchair. Although some of my friends enjoyed pushing me around for a change (you know who you are), it is not pleasant to be at groin level with the general public - especially those who insist on exposing midriffs and bumcracks. Please put it away - I don't want to look and when I am at this height, I really haven't got a choice!
3. Having a bath - sitting on a garden chair in the shower with a plastic bag wrapped around your leg just isn't the same.
4. Driving a car - it's my left leg, so if I drove an automatic it wouldn't be a problem, but I don't and so it is. The pressure you need to apply to depress the clutch and change gears has been beyond me for the last month and a half. Appreciative as I am of Him Outdoors dropping me off and picking me up from places, the nature of his job means he is on-call and his timekeeping is fluid if a call comes through that he must attend. Being given the all clear to drive last week has returned much of my freedom and independence - hurrah!
5. Exercise - I never thought I'd miss it. Times have been tough over the last couple of months and I realise that I like to get out and go for a jog or a bike ride in the fresh air to clear my head and stop things getting me down mentally. As this has been impossible I have been sitting in the sweltering heat with my leg elevated and my mind churning over depressing thoughts. Yesterday I went for my first bike ride in the outdoors (only twenty minutes around the block, but so much better than the stationary bike in the garage) and it felt good.

This is not part of the recovery five, but I have noticed the amazing kindness and generosity of many of my friends, from holding doors open for me, to patiently waiting while I hobble slowly, sitting doing nothing but drinking cups of tea or glasses of wine, and even coming round to hang out my washing when I was incapable. Thank you all - you're great and I appreciate all your friendship and support.

Driving Forces

People who drive sign-written vehicles can be startling stupid. I ride my bike around the Wakatipu Basin a lot and I see some alarming driving. Many cars (usually 4WDs) cut me up or don’t understand the concept of share the road. I know this is mutual and there are quite a few cyclists who display a reckless disregard for fellow road-users also, but that’s not what this post is about.

Last week I was carved up three times in less than ten minutes in Arrowtown by the same vehicle. Arrogance or ignorance; I’m not sure which is worse, but it certainly motivated this bloke’s attitude to the road. He ended up pulling into his driveway (overtaking me and then turning inches in front of me, causing me to brake heavily) so I know where he lives. If he continues this behaviour, I will let you know where he lives too.

And this is where those with sign-written vehicles come in. It’s all too easy to think you are in your own little bubble when you drive, but your antisocial and unthinking actions affect everyone else in your vicinity. You are blatantly advertising that you don’t give a toss and are reckless, thoughtless and completely inconsiderate. Do you really think anyone would want to do business with you? I’ve witnessed a lot of woeful driving; dangerous overtaking and careless corner-cutting. I won’t mention it here, but I know who you are.

I must also give credit where it’s due – there are some sign-written vehicles in the area who display consistent courtesy and I would certainly recommend their business to anyone who requires their services. Among the more noticeable champions of the road are Nomad Safaris, Otago Southland Waste Services, Addstaff and Ministry of Works.

Of course, not everyone wants you to know who they are. Once, Him Outdoors was racing around the Lake District when a car pulled out sharply in front of him forcing him to slam on the brakes and take evasive action. He waited until the driver was looking his rear view mirror then flashed a rude signal and mouthed obscenities very clearly, which the other driver couldn’t help but lip-read.

The flashing blue lights popped up and Him Outdoors was reluctantly pulled over by the unmarked police car. After trading ‘You shouldn’t have pulled out like that’ and “It wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t speeding’, the policeman allowed that he had another pressing call to attend and that Him Outdoors was lucky to be let off without a fine. His parting shot was, ‘Just watch who you call a f*&%ing t#%t in future, sir.’ Which goes to prove, you can never be too careful on the road – someone is indeed always watching.

Little Michael

I bought a car a couple of weeks ago, which made me feel terribly grown up. I took it for a test drive with the dealer and had to make knowledgable conversation about revs and miles per gallon (except he called it kilometres per litre, which was a totally different figure, but I nodded sagely nonetheless as though I knew what he meant).

I kept the car overnight and drove it along some winding back roads with hills and single lane bridges. I thought this might help me experiment with the acceleration, the suspension, and the torque (thanks Top Gear). It's a manual so I get to change gears when I choose, not when the engine feels like it, and the brakes are solid and secure without being either too spongy or sensitive.

It's got a good stereo and the CD player works. I tuned to Radio New Zealand National and popped in a Minuit album. When I turn the music and voices off the car is quiet -there are no rattles and knocks or other noises to pretend to ignore. It fits nicely in my garage. It's not white or silver and it's not a Subaru Legacy (these were definite no-nos on my anti-wish list).

So I took it down the lake, where I experimented with some Top Gear style photography - these are the results. I realise I still have a long way to go, but I think we can agree that it looks pretty damn stylish on the shores of Lake Wakatipu, can we not?

As we all know, every car needs a name, so I've called this little beauty Michael. It's small and perfectly formed with great acceleration and a tight turning circle, but it's the wrong red. Am I still grown up?

Poor choices

This is the result of the latest ‘teen tragedy’ – some idiotic 16-year-old getting drunkenly behind the wheel to maim and kill their mates, and any other unfortunate who happens to be on the road.

The press is full of predictable grief-stricken outpourings and hand-wringing about what wonderful beautiful souls these children possessed, how this terrific disaster is a result of their lack of social judgement, and how we should stop them from making such ‘poor choices’ in future.

No. I find these sycophantic semantics almost as repugnant as the act itself. Lack of judgement is preferring Trinity Roots to the Stone Roses. A poor choice is picking the red shoes over the black when you have nothing to match. Drink-driving is a deliberate decision. There is nothing wonderful, beautiful or excusable about it or the people who do it – whatever their age.

Today's spoiled darlings with their modified vehicles grew up in an age with the most aggressive advertising ever. They are bombarded with warnings about the dangers of alcohol, speed, and downright bad driving every day. There is no way that they can claim to be unaware of the consequences of their actions.

It is not a poor choice to drive drunk; it is attempted murder. And if you succeed in committing the crime, you should be punished. There should be no alternative. As long as there is another option, people will die on the road. It really is that simple.

Etiquette

When I was swimming today, I noticed signs in the changing rooms about lane etiquette. Basically, they informed swimmers how to behave around others: stick to the left; swim at the same speed as others in your lane and change lane if they are faster/slower than you (there are slow, medium, fast, and aqua-jogging lanes, all of which are clearly labelled); allow others to overtake you if they are faster; only overtake between the flags; leave the ends of the lanes free for people who are turning.

I would have thought this was obvious, but apparently not – hence the signs. A UK website dedicated to work etiquette has a page about what and what not to do in a lift. Advice ranges from pressing the hold button when you see people rushing to catch the lift, to acceptable topics for conversation. Honestly, there are people who need to be told these things.

My favourite bit is the piece of advice that admonishes against using a mobile phone in a lift. It simply says, ‘It’s bad manners’. When I was a child, that was enough of a deterrent for anything. Being impolite was tantamount to eating tripe or listening to Val Doonican – something to be avoided at all costs.

On the occasions where I got a bit excitable and started to converse rather more loudly than was strictly necessary, my mother would say, ‘I’m sure the whole bus/park/world doesn’t wish to know about the minutiae of your day’ and I would blush, understandably chastised and be quiet until I had something interesting to say. Some might say they’re still waiting… You just didn’t want to ‘draw attention to yourself’ as this was considered a Bad Thing.

Recently I was at the theatre and a group of young lads were in the seats behind me. They were obviously in Wellington for some sporting tournament or other (either that or they revelled in wearing matching tracksuits) and they been dragged along to the theatre to keep them out of mischief. It soon became apparent that they had no idea how to behave in a theatre – I suspect this was a first for them.

They texted on their mobile phones, they asked each other what was going on and at one point they became directly involved – one of the actors was illustrating the dank depressing feel of the bach by trying to light a fire with damp matches when one lad offered him a lighter. To be fair, a couple of them seemed to be engaged as they made (loud) comments such as, ‘Oh wow, he’s really upset!’ and ‘She’s going to be really annoyed about this.’ But they had no comprehension that they were disrupting everyone else’s enjoyment.

I’m not alone in this experience. Linley Boniface wrote about a traumatic cinema visit with ‘people who believe their conversation is far more insightful, entertaining and hilarious than what’s happening up on the screen.’ Doing, or not doing all of these things are common courtesy and common sense, attributes which perhaps we are loosing in society.

Instances of complete oblivion to others are rising, not only in the pool or the theatre but also, and perhaps more dangerously, on the road. What is worse than ignorance of others is wilful disregard. When did we decide that our needs were so much more important than everybody else’s?

I blame two things – the i-pod and L’oreal. When plugged into a machine full of tunes you have illegally downloaded from the internet, thereby killing the potential of recording artists to actually make a living (but why should you care – you’ve got it for free!), you become unaware of everyone and everything else around you, existing only in your personal bubble. Words like communication, community, commonality, cease to mean anything to you. Because you are so special.

Or, in the words of an insidious marketing campaign that promotes vanity and makes money out of hiding what people really look like behind layers of make-up, ‘Because you’re worth it.’ Are you, really? When did we become so narcissistic? Was it when schools were no longer allowed to fail children who didn’t pass their exams? Was it when we started giving certificates to everyone who showed up and extra points for spelling things correctly? Was it when we started making reality television out of spoiled brats? Bob Brockie mentions some suggestions in a recent opinion piece.

As a human it would be nice to think you are entitled to clean water, fresh air, sufficient food, shelter, clothing, free education (up to 16 and then for those with aptitude) and a health service. As for the right to mouth off and assert your individuality at everyone else’s expense – I don’t think so. Some may call it etiquette – that’s clearly a tricky French word that people don’t understand. Let’s make things simple; it’s basic manners.

Automatic road trip

Last month I had occasion to drive from Hastings to Gisborne. The journey was wonderful – I love a good road trip – but I have a problem with the car. It was a rental and an automatic, although I had specifically asked for a manual. Why do rental companies insist on doing this?

I find automatics take all of the fun out of driving – without gears to change, the journey can get really boring. I also think you don’t have the same control if you’re not in charge of the speed and power, which can be really dangerous, especially if you’re on unfamiliar roads, which are more often than not steep and twisty.

Add to that the fact that it creeps relentlessly forward unless you have your foot pressed firmly on the break (an unpleasant surprise for manual drivers), and you’ve got an accident waiting to happen. Surely it is nothing but irresponsible for rental companies to hire automatics out to people who specifically request manuals?

Anyway, it was a beautiful day and the scenery was lovely which, combined with the coffee stop at Wairoa, helped prevent me from nodding off. The photos are from the trip. I kept pulling over (safely I might add) to the side of the road to hop out of the car and try and capture the scenery – as I said, I thought it was stunning.