When I recently renewed our house insurance a young lady answered the phone. A few pleasantries preceded card payment as she ran down a list of questions, one of which was a check on my date of birth. I paused and said, “Is it April 2nd 1989?” She chuckled and replied, “Well I suppose the number on my screen could be either an eight or a three.” She then asked for the long number on the card and my expiry date. To which my riposte was, “Wow. ‘You can’t ask man who was born in 1939 his expiry date.”
Further conversation revealed her to be a witty twenty five years old from the Antipodes who had come to England for holiday but then stayed. The entire transaction took four minutes ten seconds and was a brief but jolly interlude. The young lady will, no doubt, generate more stimulating conversations in the years ahead and may even find herself excited by the developments in transport being pioneered by the internet giant Google or Go Ogle as a friend of mine calls the search engine. I refer to the driverless cars being trialled in various cities including Bristol.
Metropolitan technophiles are enthusiastic and claim that accidents will be a thing of the past. They paint pictures of robotic cars gliding from Hampstead Heath to London’s West End and I can imagine their animated chatter as they sip 2004 Dom Perignon Champagne whilst the Google car silently whizzes them to Leicester Square.
Meanwhile in the real world, I see twisty narrow muddy lanes in Oxenhall or Botloes Green! Around the corner comes a John Deere 6200 towing a muck spreader. The driver is whistling a merry roundelay that is until he meets a shiny new Google whizzy car. Will the driverless whizzy car give way, or will a satellite tell it that the tractor must do a retreat?
Furthermore, I sense real trouble when whizzy cars from different manufacturers are on the rural school run. Will the shiny BMW driven by the blonde mum have precedence over the Korean Kia and the dark haired mater? Whatever the answer, you can bet the Germans have already figured out ways to ensure that their vehicles do not have to reverse. But what about French cars, would they beat a retreat in a crisis?
Thank goodness Range Rover is now owned by Indians. The sub-continent has masses of computer programmers and you can bet that Range Rovers will still be able to negotiate the lanes without having to give way or for their occupants to even glance at other traffic. In the event of a retreat moreover, it is obvious that Defenders should give way to the Discovery, but surely the Freelander must play second fiddle to a Mitsubishi!
There is little hope however for people such as my wife who drive Fiat Pandas, and unless a solution is found small cars will be condemned to a life of continual retreat. An answer must be found and the only solution is for owners of lowly cars to become victims and form a group. Only when this happens will politicians see their cause as a social injustice and add small-car bullying (SCB) to their ever growing list of anti-discrimination legislation.
Talking about traffic and chaos reminds me, that my Great Grandfather’s cousin Charles Wells was chief reporter and director of the Bristol Times and Mirror for thirty years until his death in 1932. Those papers became the Evening Post which, a few years ago, carried the following account of a Bristol Man who faithfully organised visitor car parking at the zoo. For twenty three years he refused all help and did not take a single day off work.
As the zoo grew in popularity so too the number of cars and coaches. Zoo officials thought the council owned the car park and were delighted when new parking bays were added plus a smart hut for the cheerful attendant. No complaints were made and letters of praise were even sent by grateful customers.
All went well until the day the attendant simply disappeared. For forty eight hours chaos reigned, and the Zoo and Council held urgent meetings where it was revealed that both thought the man was employed by the other, and that an estimated £13.2m had been collected in parking fees.
A neighbour later said, ……..
“He left without a forwarding address, but I always thought he was a traffic warden.”
View from the Pew 