Postcard
from Bland
There was a pathetic call on the radio the other day, from some tourism minister
or other, suggesting we might like to spend our Easter holidays travelling Australia.
This was on the back of an announcement by Qantas that no-one is flying in these
terrorised and warlike times (and they were cutting international schedules
by 20 per cent), and therefore we might like to scuttle about on our own continent
sans aircraft.
Fine. Good idea. Fan-bloody-tastic. But which part of the country do you suggest
I do this in? You see if I do this in New South Wales, I get nailed by double
demerit points on public hols and a ramp-up of the already heart-stopping speeding
fines if I have the temerity to do something to upset the gun-totin' tarmac
monitors who are all too appropriately known as the highway patrol.
Or perhaps I could toddle south into Victoria, where the fines are less. But
wander a whole three kay per hour over the limit in that state and my credit
card is sent whimpering off to a dark corner of the shed.
We could try Queensland, but that state is looking enviously at Victoria's budgeted
300 million bucks from speeding fines (2002-2003 financial year) and is promising
to buy speed cams as fast as Gatso's successors can make 'em.
South Oz? Not on the interesting roads, since they're all posted 80k and the
good bits of tar are starting to look like a crèche with uniformed nurses.
I could go on, and will if you're not very careful.
That's the nearest couple of thousand kilometres taken care of. And, well, they
can all get rooted. One minute you're telling me to go out and enjoy, and the
next you're fining me into poverty.
Note to legislators: get a grip on something that isn't attached to your anal-retentive
budgetary nether regions. And another thing: I have ample evidence that your
brain will not explode if you do 105km/h in a 100 zone. Nor does it matter.
There's a bunch of wombats out there creating "we're all gonna die"
ads promoting lies. The ones which say five over the limit multiplies your chances
of dying by a factor they just made up. Their assertions rely on research which
produces (drumroll, please, umpire...) actual figures! What they don't tell
you is the rare experiments are conducted in very specific, often unrealistic,
circumstances, and much of the research (based on inaccurate numbers and dodgy
analysis) is conducted by people with little or no research training.
Then the "stop it at once" ads use the cavalier method of mass distraction
by liberally applying those figures to any situation they can think of, most
of which they made up during an hysterical client-agency caffeine-fuelled mid-morning
brain-storming session.
Pin your ears back, and crank up the no-doze, cos here comes Uncle Guido's view
on speed. It does not kill. Having ridden a number of motorcycles at two to
three times the interstate speed limit, I can vouch for this. And so can anyone
who has travelled in an international flying block of flats built by Boeing
et al. The big ones (used and recommended by Qantas) cruise at around 900km/h.
Lack of observation, poor anticipation, and stupidity kills - I've been guilty
of all three. So it hurts and I've been lucky.
Lucky or not, I resent the lies and the potentially dangerous message that we'll
all be okay if we do the posted limit. Bollocks. Experience says the wrong move
at half the limit can kill, while the right move at twice will not.
But I could be wrong. Maybe I should just do what I'm told and enjoy a nice
little holiday at 100km/h (or 90, which is obviously much safer), in the Shire
of Bland. Thanks, Minister, I'll send you a postcard.
Guy "Guido" Allen
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