Who would have thought? A prang on the main drag outside the Freemason's Tavern involving a Porsche and a Kia. At lunch time on a Sunday. When nobody drives above about 40 kilometres an hour down Vincent Street, except for the odd hoon. Hope the owner of the Porsche has good insurance...
Yesterday morning, we had a couple of near misses outside our home. A 4WD and caravan had parked on the left side of Anzac Lane, attending the public loos. A ute passed down the middle of the road, preparing to turn east on Anzac Lane behind our house. Another ute heading west on Anzac Lane was attempting to turn right into Jas' workshop opposite our house. We nearly had a demolition derby on the corner. Resplendent in my passion killer, I was throwing out a rubbish bag into the bin and witnessed the almost crash. Fortunately, all were driving at a snail's pace, so throwing out the anchor was not that much of a challenge.
Heavenly Beverley might gain the reputation of Hazardous Beverley with all this driving hoo-hah. We are at the time of year when Beverley is attracting dog trippers, weekend campers and Grey Nomads heading north as well as a veritable smorgasbord of local winter sports played on Saturdays and Sundays. Perhaps we should consider ourselves fortunate that we only have an occasional bingle. And maybe, in this hectic world, we sometimes need to take a deep breath, slow down and pay attention.
A spectacular and memorable motoring disaster occurred when a rather inebriated chap exited the bottom pub, started his vehicle and failed to complete a right turn onto Vincent Street heading west. Instead, he mounted the kerb and ended up wedged in the window of a then vacant shop owned by Thrifty Link. Apparently, our local coppers had little difficulty nabbing him after the event.
A similar escapade nearly ruined the Mothers' Day lunch presented by the South Kolan pub, west of my brother's house near Bundaberg. Same situation. Somebody with a skinful was driving to the left of the pub, when for some inexplicable reason, he chose to drive through the locked doors of the pub and take out the entire dining room and the men's loos. Not to be chastened by such carnage, the lunch went ahead with tables set up outside and the gents having to share the ladies' toilets. Once again, I believe the culprit was easily apprehended.
The bashing of the Porsche by the Kia was loud and almost caused the Porsche to enter the front door of the Freemason's Tavern. The firies and ambos turned up, to clean the mess and check the health of the cars' occupants. Michael, as investigative reporter, was able to ascertain that the Porsche was to be carted away on the back of a truck. The Kia's removal has not transpired and it is cutting a rather lonely and disheveled figure next to the pub. I would suggest its restoration is not a sure thing...
This week, we are preparing to make our way down the hill to the Big Smoke, me to attend Alex's functional capacity assessment and Michael to undergo a gastroscopy. Given the timing of Michael's procedure, I will be driving us home in the dark. Today's traffic shenanigans have reminded me that I will need to have my wits about me and be prepared to take evasive action at a moment's notice!
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