The Scrivener: Between The Lines
“Years ago, I was given a lift by the devout pastor of a local church. He was about eighty and loved the Lord. He also drove a small, fast, sporty type of car. He had no regard for white lines…’’ Brian Barratt asks for good manners, respect and safety from drivers when they are dealing with those white lines.
For another generous helping of pleasure visit Brian’s Web site: www.alphalink.com.au/~umbidas/
If you're a fan of that weird and wonderful TV series ‘The League of Gentlemen’, you'll know Edward and Tubs. A mad, maniacal brother and sister with a son we heard but never saw, they ran The Local Shop.
Tubs was richly ignorant of the world outside The Local Shop. One of her most enlightened questions was, ‘Is there a London?’ When Edward showed her the road map, she went into a frenzy of confusion. Waving her arms and wiggling her fingers, when she saw all the roads, she cried in crazed excitement, ‘The lines! The LINES!’
There are mysterious lines in our city street directory, too. They are the blue lines round the edge of each page. I live on page 70. When I drive east, and cross the blue line, I don't feel a thing. There isn't a bump in the road where I expect to feel one. That blue line has no effect at all.
For many people, it seems that the white lines on roads have no effect at all. Years ago, I was given a lift by the devout pastor of a local church. He was about eighty and loved the Lord. He also drove a small, fast, sporty type of car. He had no regard for white lines. As he drove astride two lanes in city streets, in the heavy traffic, I prayed that the Lord would protect us from a collision with an oncoming vehicle.
Half a century ago, in another city far away, there was another pastor. He ran one of those churches where people speak in tongues—which is not unique to Christians, of course—and believe the Lord will heal their afflictions. He wore glasses with lenses far thicker than mine, and mine were very thick before the days of optical plastics. Evidently the Lord had decided not to heal his affliction.
He was about five feet tall. He somehow drove a huge car, a Humber Super Snipe of 1950s vintage. We often saw him blundering round the city, peering through the steering wheel, not over it. I don't think he could see the white lines, let alone keep off them. It was said that he trusted the Lord to guide him. We kept as far away as possible.
But the problem isn't confined to pastors of fringe sects.
How often have your cursed the person who parked in the space next to you, because they are on the white line? So close that you can't open the door of your car. Or they think that 90 degree angle parking means they can abandon their car at 70 degrees, straddling the white lines.
I asked one of those thoughtless people, ‘Don't you like straight lines?’ I had a smile on my face and spoke nicely. His response is not printable in these auspicious pages.
OK, don't let's worry too much about the blue lines round the edges of pages. But for goodness sake let's have some sense of good manners, respect and safety when we are dealing with white lines.
And don't blame the Lord if you have a prang.
© Copyright 2004, 2005 Brian Barratt
Adapted from an article first published in Bonzer!
