Driving down the A3 in the middle lane, I was forced to brake suddenly when two cars going at speed overtook me and then the one at the front pulled sharply into my lane. Even as it was only half way into my lane the second car squeezed past it. It struck me as slightly insane driving on both their parts, but I didn't think too much about it.
Until about a minute later a police car tore up the fast lane, presumably in pursuit of the second car.
A slight bit of excitement in my humdrum life.
For my money the police were trailing too far behind to catch their prey. So those criminals (sorry suspects, innocent til proven guilty and all that) had got away with whatever it was that they might or might not have done.
I wonder what they were being chased for. It's annoying that I will never know, because I feel I am part of the caper now. The man who was nearly killed in the getaway chase (although, in fact, all drivers concerned were on the ball enough to avoid getting anywhere near colliding). I could be called as a star witness. Though to be honest, I would be rubbish. I couldn't tell you a thing about either car, let alone who was in them.
It's funny how desperate we are to feel like we were involved when something bad happens. As if no-where nearly being involved in a car crash with a suspected criminal, of unspecified badness, gives our life a little extra zest.
But let's face it, it's not much of a story. Though it's the only thing that comes anywhere near being an "incident" in my day. If I talked it up a bit I could claim that I came within inches of death, in a chase involving what very well might have been suspected Al Quaida terrorists. That's what I told my girlfriend anyway.
It's equally possible that the car I saw was just being driven by an idiot and that the policemen were in a hurry to get home to watch
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.
