Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Out of season

It was a bit warm today even in the Peak District. I had a meeting in Ripley first thing, so after an early morning walk around the fields with Lilly, I set off. It was hot in the car. No air conditioning in my elderly Toyota, and though the engine seems sound still, some of the frivolous things like the brakes, gearbox and what ever controls the flow of hot and cold air are showing signs of wear and tear. As I turned off the Ashbourne Road and headed for Cromford (via Gellia) I joined a queue of vehicles, moving fairly slowly (between 30 and 40mph). What was slowing us down I mused? A caravan, a tractor? An elderly person, a learner driver? No none of these. As I progressed slowly up the queue I was somewhat surprised to see a Derbyshire Dales gritter equipped with snow plough on the front and flashing lights, ambling along the highway. Why? Practise? Whimsy? Probably sheer bloody mindedness, unless of course it is the ghostly gritter that disappeared in the February snowstorms and is now doomed to wander the A and B roads of the Peak District, pointlessly holding up the traffic and irritating people.

8 comments:

fiwa said...

Maybe he/she thought that if you saw the snow plough, for one tiny second you might feel cooler...

Or perhaps the snow plough was getting the blues so it's owner was taking it for a stroll?

The Birdwatcher said...

Fiwa - Nice thought. Your're glass is obviously half full!

Kim Ayres said...

9/10 times around here, it's a Nissan Micra driver at the front of the long queues

Katherine said...

I smiled at your whimsical post. I assume a gritter is something that sprinkles grit so you have traction on icy roads? We don't get 'em around these parts.

The Birdwatcher said...

Kim - Or any car driven by my mother!

Katherine - Lucky you.

Richard said...

While I was working at the world's favourite tolled river crossing in Dartford, Highways Agency gritters were allowed through for free because they were working and also deemed an emergency service. Quite often they would do summer training or proving runs, obviously not an emergency, and there was always a slight dilemma about whether to let them go or not. Very slight, it was only a couple of quid, let someone else argue about it!

No Good Boyo said...

It's like the 2A bus I nearly boarded in Brixton one night. A glance in at the dead souls convinced me that it was the Routemaster equivalent of the Flying Dutchman.

小貓咪 said...
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