I recall as young driver in UK, motoring home to Sunderland from the mad scouser's place in Liverpool after a weekend of debauchery and nudey prod game frolics that seemed to be what got me through my Monday to Friday marine college existence at the time. The route took me up the M6 and across the A59 through stunning Lake District scenery. Steep inclines followed by even steeper declines. As only Barmy 18 yr olds can do, I overtook a whole line of slow moving traffic up a hill that would have done justice to the north face of the Eiger. My whole 997ccs of raw power under the bonnet of my 1962 Ford Anglia was unleashed in a whir of clashing missed gears and high pitched whistles emanating from the rusty hole in the floor as I sailed past countless of cars casting looks of superior disdain at their cautious cowardly drivers until I had to unceremoniously cut off some posh git in a Triumph Tr6 to avoid hitting something large and very metallic coming the other way. Pulling in between posh git's sports car and the culprit of the traffic, that was virtually at a standstill by now, I saw with disbelief was a caravan doing around 10mph on what was virtually a 45 degree incline.
Juggernaut coming the other way now being gone, I produced a Starsky and Hutch over zealous overtaking manoeuvre and saw that it was an 850cc mini that was the tug. Staring with bemused and knowingly disdainful expression that only a teenager can perfect as I overtook,saw this idiot with a trilby hat ( why do these guys always wear a hat?)wave at me with an even dafter grin on his face. As he did so, he lost control of the dustbin lid of a steering wheel, the caravan and little red mini started doing the dance of death, jacknifing every which way. He saved it, but ended up in a hell of a mess on the side of a precipice with his procession of the best of British 7o's vintage motoring's finest taking evasive action to avoid the carnage.
The scene in my rear view mirror was something to behold and for 10 fleeting seconds I pondered on what a narrow escape I had just had, until the teenage mind wandered back to the sexual " one for the road" encounter had not 90 minutes before.
Some things never change, us little boys just get older
