Now traffic jams usually wind me up and particularly when I am trying to get into the office or get to a meeting. That night I was supposed to be going out to meet a friend at 8pm; realisation was quick to dawn that there was a high probability I’d be late.
Despite my inclination towards anger, I managed to stay calm and keep my mind occupied during the wait for the road to be reopened. I had some coping strategies, which I will share in a moment. To be fair, I also appreciated that however stressed I was feeling, there were a number of individuals further up the road having a far worse evening.
Movement on the dual carriageway had been reduced to occasional forward lunges and even those eventually petered out into a complete standstill. A little after 6pm it was dark and cold, in fact about two degrees above freezing; the fumes from the exhausts were like clouds swirling around the vehicles, the fug softly illuminated by the brake lights. I couldn’t decide if the scene was pretty, grimy post-industrial or eerie (think James Herbert’s ‘Fog’).
Watching the smoke show made me reflect that I didn’t want the fumes being sucked into my car by the heating system. Initially I turned the fans off and then began to get cold; next the fans got turned back on again and the air recirculation engaged. Of course this meant more fuel being consumed and more power being drained from the battery.
The yoyo of indecision was resolved when stationary conditions took a firm grip. I didn’t want to keep the engine running for an indeterminate time because that would waste fuel and there’s only so much of that oil based fluid I can afford each month without having to consider prostitution or bar work to supplement my income. I didn’t want to keep all the electrical ancillaries running without the engine on because that would drain Zafira’s battery and that would render her helpless.
So parked on the extreme right fringes of the A5 – to allow the emergency vehicles to run unimpeded down the centre of the carriageway – I switched off the engine, the lights, and the stereo; and darkness descended.
The options at this point were sleep (impractical) or utter boredom (unsatisfactory). Once some calls had been made to advise interested parties of my arrest; rescue from tedium came in the form of a book and a windup torch both of which were secreted in my vehicle for just this eventuality.
The book, Terry Pratchett’s “Raising Steam” guaranteed that some pleasure was gained whilst time moved on. In terms of the external conditions, the swirling exhaust fumes looked quite a lot like steam so they actually served to augment the reading experience, which was good (whilst gently poisoning me, which was not so good).
The windup torch (acquired during a visit to How Stean Gorge); what a great solution to a practical challenge! Seriously, I recommend that you buy one for your glove box!
A number of torch lit chapters on, the emergency crews and assorted cleaner-uppers had cleared up the casualties and the vehicular debris and reopened the road. The vehicles around me roared back into life, the fairy light like chain of car lamps re-illuminated and forwards progress resumed.
Unfortunately not for all the vehicles that had been jammed. One or two remained stationary as the traffic weaved its way around them. What had happened to these poor souls is the subject of conjecture but my guesses are empty fuel tanks, diminished batteries, overheating engines or perhaps snoozing at the wheel.
Having left the office in Milton Keynes centre at 5:45pm, I finally made it back to Daventry at 8:25pm. In the two years I have been managing this commute; that is by far the longest time the trip has ever taken. I got home said ‘hi’ to the wife and kids, got out of my suit, scoffed my dinner and then made it around to Jez’s abode by 9pm – one hour late but not that bad in the circumstances.
To wrap up, here are some reflections on my latest blog prompting experience:
Banging heavy metal or punk music is not good for calmness in frustrating circumstances. My usual musical preferences were temporarily suspended and instead of ‘Five Knuckle’ I found comfort in the soothing tones of Annie Lennox and her album “Songs of Mass Destruction”, perhaps oddly appropriate in the circumstances. Whilst there was some mass destruction up ahead, to be honest for me the album could have been entitled “Songs of Mass Distraction” because she helped me find calm (at least whilst the ignition was still engaged).
I mentioned the band Five Knuckle in the last paragraph – slightly bizarre that the prang that prompted the long delay involved five cars on the A5! Perhaps evidence of Douglas Adam’s interconnectedness of all things!
Did you ever see the “One foot in the Grave” episode that was entirely filmed in the back of a car supposedly in a bank holiday motorway traffic jam? I thought that programme was cleverly made and surprisingly funny. I found myself thinking about Victor and his catch phrase “I don’t believe it” throughout my detention. There can be humour found in any situation – fortunately for me, Sir Terry was on hand to provide that.
I am pleased that I happened to have a pee before leaving the office because at least I didn’t have the need to relieve my bladder as well as my boredom - getting my todger out at the side of the road would have been embarrassing!
Finally, I was prepared with book and torch but maybe my glove box also needs to have an empty bottle wedged into it to cater for the urinary kind of eventuality.
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