Convoy driving

There are a variety of reason why you would find yourself driving in convoy.

One of favourite films growing up was the film of that name, the glorification of the trucking fraternity by Kris Kristofferson and his cronies was one of the highlights of my childhood. I loved everything about the culture of brotherhood and cooperation to combat the injustices completely overriding the fact that they were breaking all manner of laws in the process.

There high speed convoy is a relatively well known practice in areas of danger when transporting dignitaries through high risk places. At the other end of the spectrum the slow convoy escorted by armoured vehicles with the intention of the protection of civilians is fairly commonplace in conflicts zones.

Now I appreciate that this is all rather oblique to most of us and, dare I say, a bit dull. I hope never to be in any of the situations mentioned above for any reason.

Last night, however, on our drive home from our friends house, we found ourselves unwittingly driving in a convoy.

There had been some doubt earlier in the say as to whether the visit could be accomplished due to some unexpected snow. The persistent blizzards were making driving extremely hazardous and it was looking increasingly dubious. It did all clear up in time for our departure and all was well.

Five minutes into the return trip it all turned white again.

I am not sure what it is in the psychological make up of humans that we automatically fall into line. I am sure that some professor would link it back to days when we travelled together for safety, like wagons crossing an Oklahoma plain we are ready to whip our cars into a circle at a moments notice.

That would have been pretty easy in the slippy conditions last night.

As soon as the black turned to white beneath our wheel all the cars in front drifted to one side and slowed down to a crawl. The snow wasn’t deep, it wasn’t really that slippy but like a built in subconscious reaction they all fell into line.

Right then I started to rankle.

So out we went into the other lane and sailed on past them all at the heady speed of light. Like Lighting Mqueen we screamed along at a dizzying 50 miles an hour!

Reflecting on this after a frustrating drive to church behind Mr Distracted, I have concluded that I am not a natural convoy driver.

Naturally, I like there to be space in front of me. Sitting in a line of traffic is a claustrophobic experience that doesn’t sit well with my character. I think that it is a deeper reflection of my character in general.

There are those among us who are happy and content to plod along with the general direction of everyone, they never think or question very much.These people are seldom troubled with the angst of the few, they probably look at us and are completely baffled at our fussing.

I envy them some days……..today!

“Why can’t I just be pew warmer” were the words that I uttered from under the duvet this morning? My long suffering wife has dealt with this for a while now.

We are just wired differently, the world needs all of us with our weirdness to function properly.

The convoy drivers are not wrong, neither are those of us out on the fresh snow making a new path, we just need to get on with being who we are.