All the fun of lunatic drivers:
1. Driving north up the A1(M) where it collects the M1. Volvo V70 in lane 2 of the M1 decides he's coming off at J45 2 miles ahead, so cuts across lane 1 and the traffic island nearly collecting a Clio which is in the lane joining on. V70 has to swerve, has nowhere to go as the solid hatchings he's in are about to end, so has to brake harshly. He then main beams the Clio - presumably for having the cheek to be in the way
2. A mile further up a poobox Red 3 series plants past in lane 4, well over the tonne, sees J45 goes off in half a mile and slams the anchors on. He then swervs across all 3 lanes to his left cutting across a caravan in lane 2 which nearly fishtails as he slams on to avoid the Beemer. Shortly after pbutting J45 the same poobox 3 series once again plants past in lane 3.
3. Boy racer special comes down the slip road. Apparently my job as the occupant of lane 1 is to brake to let him in (L2 occupied) as he's making no effort to match speed to go either in front or behind me. Instead he goes up the hard shoulder to get past. The best bit is that he's driving a Mk5 Escort, resplendant with Scooby airscooped bonnet, front bumber and airdam, Scooby mirrors, Scooby side sills and rear spoiler and the rear number plate well flushed out with usual stick on bike plate hanging off the bottom of the rear bumper next to the dust bin exhaust. And across the tailgate where the number used to be? The word S O R T E D in silver letters.
Ian
