An ill wind

I really didn't like that..... That was a morning I don't want to repeat.
Last night, I was aware that I was getting low on fuel, but it had been a long day and, after my last lesson, I just wanted to get home. With hindsight, I should have taken ten minutes to go to my usual petrol station.
This morning, I had to set of just before 6.45am. The trip computer told me I had 24 miles worth of fuel left in the tank. I know it's not 100% accurate, but I was confident that I had plenty of fuel to get to the only petrol station in Nairn, 8 miles away, that is open at such a time. I pulled into the forecourt, only to find..... No diesel! Mon dieu! Cripes! and various other expletives. My options were: a) to wait in Nairn for half an hour until the two other petrol stations opened; or, b) press on to the next petrol station in Inverness, 16 miles away.
If I waited in Nairn I would have to cancel my first lesson. If I drive on to Inverness I risked running out of fuel (and then having to cancel maybe two lessons).
Not wanting to cancel a lesson, and being confident of my ability to drive in a fuel-efficient manner, I decided to drive on. I turned off the heater and the music system, then waited until a big lorry passed by, so that I could follow in their slipstream. As I pulled out behind the lorry, my trip computer said that I had 15 miles worth of fuel left.... And 16 miles to the next petrol station. Unfortunately, it just had to be the morning that a fierce gale was blowing straight towards me.... Why couldn't it have been blowing the other way?! So, despite the lorry ahead, I could still feel my car battling hard against the wind. And the miles left in my fuel tank were counting down fast.
12 miles left, 11, 10.... The wind was, if anything getting even stronger and I was having to press quite firmly on the accelerator to stay behind the lorry and not lose momentum. 9, 8, 7 miles and I still had more than ten miles to go. Not only that, but, on that stretch of the A96, there are not many places I could pull over and feel comfortable leaving my car if (when?) I did run out of fuel. By the time I reached Tornagrain roundabout I apparently had 3 miles of fuel left. Thirty seconds later the trip computer said 'Time up..... You are about to grind to an embarrassing halt.' (it didn't really say that, it just said '0 miles', but it might have well had said that). And I still had over five miles to go. I didn't even have a downhill stretch to help me (and even if there was, I'm convinced the wind was strong enough to try and push me uphill). The lights of Inverness and the Kessock bridge were getting closer.... At least now I wouldn't have to walk too far to get a can of diesel. Half a mile to go and I could see the lights of the petrol station teasing me. 200m and just two more roundabouts to go. Please don't run out of fuel on a roundabout. Phew! I got through the roundabouts and, to my immense incredulity and utter amazement, I made it into the petrol station and, thankfully, up to the pump. Never, never, never again do I want to put myself through that.
And I was going to end this post there, but the evening was equally tense.....
The wind didn't let up all day; if at all, it got stronger. So it was an unusual challenge on some lessons when some pupils were quite alarmed to feel how much the wind (especially a crosswind or headwind) could affect their steering. And home was an especially welcome sight for me at the end of the day.
Jane and I were sat, just finished dinner, enjoying some wine and listening to the wind howling around the house. Suddenly, there was a bang, a flash of light and the power went. We half expect a power cut when it's this wild but, looking out the window, I could see that some nearby houses still had power. Then we saw that one of the overhead electrical cables had been blown off the telegraph pole. It had crashed down onto the road, twisting in an arc over my neighbour's car and partly blocking the road. After calling the electricity company and the police I went out to see if there is anything I could do. It had only just missed our cars, so I moved them round the corner to try and create more room in the road. I've seen films and television where a live electrical cable snakes around, sending showers of sparks flying. Would this really happen? I usually have a scientific curiosity, but I certainly wasn't going to be experimenting with what was, as far as I was concerned, a live electrical cable. So, having moved the cars, I retreated to the safety (but darkness) of our front room to wait for the police and electricity company to spring into action.
A couple of minutes later, I watched in horror as the lady in the house opposite stepped outside her gate and, without a second's hesitation, grabbed the cable to try (unsuccessfully) to move the cable!!! She didn't die. Her hair didn't even stand up on end.
Why is it that, when you get a power cut, you get a strong desire for a cup of tea? Luckily, our neighbour, Irene, is a gem, and came round with a Thermos of boiling water (a bit disappointed that she didn't bring any cake though). She was far more proactive than the services - the electrical engineers took 2½ hours to turn up, and the police didn't bother at all! When my neighbour had grabbed the cable earlier I had wondered if I had been a bit silly not wanting to touch the cable. But when I saw the engineers handling the cable with 2m wooden poles I was relieved that I hadn't.

Rat race.

Once again, a bit of snow seems to be bringing havoc to the roads.
It's funny how a few inches of snow in England becomes HEADLINE NEWS when far worse conditions north of the border rarely get more than the briefest of mentions. The reporter on Breakfast just now said "Here, in Worcestershire, we had half a centimetre of snow overnight." that's not news! That barely even qualifies as 'weather'.
Driving is all about reading the road ahead and making adjustments for the conditions. 'Conditions' include traffic and road conditions, not just weather.
One of life's little pleasures is watching other drivers NOT reading the road ahead. Admittedly this is morally dubious, like watching Alex Ferguson's blood pressure rise when things aren't going his way.
The A96, the road linking Inverness and Aberdeen, is great for Bad Driver watching. In general, it is a fairly free-flowing 60mph road (apart from the occasional tractor driver who is less considerate than most tractor drivers). In a perfect world, with good weather conditions, everyone would be driving at 57 - 60mph on the straights, easing of the accelerator in good time for the bends and roundabouts, and keeping a minimum of a 2 second gap between them and the vehicle ahead....... "in a perfect world". But, as we are reminded every day, this isn't a perfect world. There are plenty of drivers that drive at speeds significantly less than appropriate. But, who knows, maybe they are transporting something fragile? Maybe they....... (I'm struggling to think of other valid reasons for driving far too slow for the conditions). And, of course, there are plenty of drivers who think that speed limits do not apply to them, as A & E units (and undertakers) around the country will testify.
Almost every day I travel along the A96. What fascinates me is wondering what on earth its going on in the heads of some of the drivers? Early morning and late afternoon, there will usually be a continuous stream of vehicles in each direction, at consistent speeds of 50 - 60 mph. Let's take the 16 mile journey from Nairn to Inverness as an example:
In a perfect world, with everyone travelling at 60mph (and ignoring the slowing down for the three roundabouts), it would take 16 minutes to complete the journey. If, heaven forbid, you had to 'endure' sitting in traffic at 55mph, you would reach your destination a mere 87 seconds later. Even if the flow of traffic was down to 50mph, your journey would still only take a fraction over 3 minutes longer. I am sure that no-one would ever mind setting their alarm clock 4 minutes earlier (so they could allow a few minutes extra for their journey), yet so many people seem to hate sitting in steadily flowing traffic, a touch under the speed limit. Consequently, I watch with fascination/ horror/ amusement as drivers take sometimes considerable risks (and use a lot more fuel) to overtake a car or two, wait a couple of miles for another overtaking opportunity, overtake another car, wait for another opportunity etc. It so often happens that the Audi (and other cars), sitting right up behind me as I head out of Nairn, is maybe 5 or 6 vehicles (= 20 seconds) ahead of me as we reach Inverness.
Even if, like some Audi drivers, you don't believe the speed limit applies to you and you raced to Inverness at 70mph, you would only arrive just over 2 minutes before someone sticking to the speed limit. Meanwhile, you have used significantly more fuel, risked a fine, points on your license and, most importantly, risked the lives of others.
I love driving. I love the sensation of speed. And I will overtake when it is safe and necessary to do so. But I also love getting to my destination early simply because I allowed plenty of time of time for the journey, not because I risked overtaking every vehicle in front of me.
Do yourself a favour - leave a few minutes earlier and leave the anxiety and blood pressure to Alex Ferguson.