Driving out the old year

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It was 5 pm or so when I set out, driving down the old year. A few cars were still heading home. Drivers were fast, longing to get home, changed and into a party. Twenty miles on, and the small stream had slowed to a drip. My sat nav suggested a new route, and disliking hair pin bends on a road what is only allegedly an A I agreed, heading out over an unknown road with slowed and restricted me. It seemed an age before Carlisle and the motorway.

The trickle had slowed to a drip. My sat nav was predicting a ten pm arrival by now, unable to understand the effect of a dark narrow A road on a never over confident motorist driving an old car. I was one small dark car, barely light in a dark world.

So we drove down the sped trapped motorway at a steady 70, and over the almost deserted A66 – which was as deserted as though it was 2am and not 8 pm. I forced myself to stop for a coffee from my flask, but the intensity of Hogmany was beginning to drive me. I’m not a pure bred Scot, and I probably don’t really understand Hogmany, but it fills me with hopes and sorrows religious in intensity. I wanted warmth, light, family. Scotch Corner was a surreal experience. On that huge, traffic light controlled roundabout there were my car and one other. It was not yet 9pm and I felt like an extra on ‘Survivors’.

And so the last stretch, the A1 almost empty. A few cars hurrying north, and then a six lane motorway empty – no other cars in sight. And then the turn off, and small roads, and my daughter’s home, and hot tea, hot chilli and champaign, and a new year, calm and smooth and untrodden and full of hope. Any miracle might happen.

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2 responses to “Driving out the old year

  1. We hope you had a fabu time in Tad with your grandchildren. We saw them on Christmas Eve and they have doubled in size.

  2. motorways that are so queit are very eerie, well done for driving all that way after a day at work!

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