Parp parp! Damned peasants on the road!

 I quite enjoy walking along quiet country lanes. Single track lanes with hedgerows and views and suchlike. Today I had an epiphany while doing so. As I dived for the ditch and lay among the badger carcasses, the discarded McNasties Burgers boxes and the empty tins of cider it all suddenly became clear to me. Sparrows in the hedgerow played trumpets and other stringed instruments (I failed Music 101) and the fluffy white clouds spelled it out in Cherokee smoke signals while the enormous finger of a bearded but familiar and Western deity helped me to my feet again.

I know why drivers of the younger generation are so universally rude and all want to kill me.

I know why drivers of the older generations try their level best to kill me.

Simples! The younger generation have never walked anywhere - they see pedestrians on a country lane as trespassing on motoring turf, if you'll pardon the juxta-mis-position. Roads is for cars, innit, yeah. The fact that there are no pavements and the roads is single tracks, yeah, is immat... is unimp... is nuffink, yeah? Roads is for cars and it is dat you 'as got no right bein' on da road yeah? Why is it dat you is not, like, drivin' yeah? A pedestrian on a roadway is as alien to them as Acker Bilk headlining at a rave (if raves are still the "thing", are they?).

The older generations simply don't see me. I'm only six foot two and built like a small JCB, it's only natural that I should blur into the, er, well, blur that is the world beyond the bonnet and the range of the reading specs (only ones I've got with me dear).

You take your life in your hands around Lincolnshire lanes. I guess that you do anywhere in the countryside these days. I am going to begin sentencing every motorist I see to a new punishment. Two hours of standing still with nowhere to dive to for cover while some nincomnitwit or clinically congenital genital drives repeatedly past them at 60mph+ trying to pass fewer than eighteen inches away. For the really bad offenders I am going to add a further two hours during which they must pile up all of their loved ones, pets, girlfriends, boyfriends, grandmothers and iToys while I drive past them at 60mph+ at an estimated, more or less, missed-you-anyway, just barely, distance of eighteen inches.I may even wear my specs when administering the punishment. Or I may not.

Only a few weeks ago one chap obviously saw me giving him the "thank you for that life-enhancing experience" finger in his rear view mirror after he'd changed my parting from left to right in his high speed wake. He squealed to a halt in a cloud of tyre smoke, reversed wildly and considered getting out. Then he noticed that I was coming to him faster and with more intent aforethought than he was coming to me - then he drove away again. How come he saw me in the rear-view mirror but obviously didn't see me through the windscreen? Maybe he was checking his score with a view to slapping another silhouette of a pedestrian (50 points) on the wing? Perhaps he was disappointed that he'd missed?

Where the hell are they all rushing to and why is it important that they get there at absolute maximum speed? Their wives can't all be having babies. Maybe their jobs are so super-fantastic or they love the supermarket so much that every second counts?

These lovely vehicles btw are from a Club Run that I was asked to cover a while back. The tables were turned there. Ever wondered what happens when you wear a black outfit plus yellow hi-vis jacket at the side of a busy main road and point a long black something (like a long camera lens) at traffic that has just sailed over a bridge? They slow down, curse you seven generations unto seven more and drive past at 59mph exactly. Great fun. I've never seen so many sedate and well-behaved motorists. I shall have to wear the hi-vis and carry a camera at all times in future... I must have ruined the day of several hundred "civilian" drivers while waiting for the club members to cruise past!

The Human Race. How long before Mr Darwin retro-fits us all with wheels or, at the very least, castors?

Or functioning brains?

Or universal manners?

Grr. End of rant.