JD spys with his little eye
By John Dickinson on 2nd Nov 07
something beginning with...This week JD looks at alleviating the boredom when travelling to far distant events and makes one wonder if the old I Spy' books should make a come back! Then there are strange encounters of the JD kind...
HAD quite a bit of feedback on the recent P5 column that concentrated on our (meaning yours as well as mine) frequent drives to and from events and the game of spotting other sportsmen and women on the road via their vehicles, in order to while away the hours. It's always good to receive comment, whether you agree with what I say or not, and nice to know I'm not the only motorway nosy-parker out there judging by your comments!
The vast majority of ‘spots' mean little but, as in many pursuits, it is mostly about the thrill of the chase! But occasionally thoughts of the ‘spotted' occupant may keep you occupied for five minutes on an otherwise dull drive. Having caught-up with and slowly passed a fancy sign-written truck I may think: ''So who the heck is Driver: Jack Spratt and where exactly does he stand in the heady world of Modsport Formula Wotsit? Or, I may wonder if ‘Emma Eccles, Showjumper', will ever appear on the Horse of the Year Show.''
Even if she does, it is highly unlikely she will feature in the split-second it takes me to find another channel after accidentally stumbling across it some empty evening.
But to be fair, says the football pundit in me, this is not so say that I am not open minded about sports other than the motorised two-wheeled variety. Although thinking about it, most of them involve wheels somewhere along the line. I can watch the kids and their Extreme stuff for hours. The MTB, BMX, Skateboard, Snowboard dudes are incredible. And where the hell were all these sports when I were a lad? Sure, we all turned our push-bikes into ‘scramblers' but believe me, how I wish all this stuff had been around ten, errr 20, OK 30-years ago?
Whatever, everyone has a mountain bike now and most of them spend a fair amount of time mounted on racks belting up and down motorways. And even though there are millions of them I still find myself checking out if they are Giants or Konas or even this week's Halfords Manager's Special and if they have rear suspension and disc brakes.
Much less likely is spotting some famous person's truck on the road. Especially if you are trekking around the northern outposts of this country and are not based in the south east where famous people are more likely to hang out. I must add here that while trundling home up the M6 one Monday evening, several years ago, I was once overtaken by one David Coulthard, which was quite a novelty for him I imagine, (overtaking someone I mean) driving some kind of souped-up people carrier. As he was only doing about three mph more than me, even I had ample time to recognise the famous Scottish lantern jaw.
Much more interesting, I once enjoyed a surreal mid-motorway chat with Chris Walker as I inched alongside his huge road-race truck on a grid-locked M6 late one sunny Sunday summer evening. Chris had been somewhere like Brands Hatch and I had been somewhere else. He leant out of the window of his high cab and I talked through my sunroof. No change there then!
My strangest encounter, if you must know, was chatting to Vera Duckworth, off Coronation Street, in a virtually deserted motorway service area at about 3pm when we were the sole customers in the shop. She signed: ''Happy reporting!'' in my notebook (big Corrie fan, me!) and even let me go first in our two-person ‘queue' at the till. Life on the road eh!
Ever on the lookout for something to relieve the boredom and induce the competitive spirit, myself and Ray Archer once departed the NEC after the Bike Show at exactly the same time, 6pm, Ray to turn left en-route to the M1 and head up to Newcastle in the north east while I eased right onto the M6 and Kendal in the north west.
On a good day my trip can be accomplished in two and a half hours. This was not a good day. When we checked each other's time next day I thought I was a cert for slowest time on record, a mighty five hours, most of it stationary outside the RAC building. I'm sure you know it well.
But Ray beat me handsomely with a ground-breaking five and a half hours of bottom gear crawl.
But there again, what else are you going to do...?