I remember once seeing a comedian ask the question "Can you imagine if people walked the way that they drive?" & then followed up with the scenario "you're motoring down the footpath, just over the limit, when some woman with a pram & two small kids trailing pulls out of a side-shop without looking, right in front of you!" Everyone should be allowed to use their horn when walking ... hang on, that's right, it's illegal to use your horn to show frustration at another person's lack of skill or perception.
Maybe we should follow the road rules when walking, but only as written ...
When you ride a motorbike, the general rule is that every car driver is out to kill you, & it's your job to minimise their chance of success. That's taking the responsibility back on you, the rider. It's a recipe for staying alive longer. On a bike, you can't afford to get frustrated with the other road users, you can't pretend you're indestructible or bigger than everyone else. If your mind wavers from the task of riding for any short period, you could be dead, with only yourself to blame.
I'm suggesting that people should definitely drive like bike riders. They should also walk like bike riders. Some people who've never ridden think that riders are arrogant speed-demons putting their lives at risk. The reality is that they are concentrating so hard on the riding that they are capable of bending time & making it appear as though they're going faster (with a nod to Will Self).
I've also done this when walking through a crowd. It doesn't matter how haphazardly & seemingly unaware the people flowing along are, there's usually a way through that isn't obvious unless you've got all of your will bent on finding it. It's a matter then of adjusting your speed, your angles, your position in the crowd, to make the most of that slim gap - at no danger to you or the people around you - & be on your way.
I like to think of it as mindful walking. It takes a similar level of consciousness & conscientiousness as does riding, to me. You can't afford to ignore a bump in the road, a movement in the corner of your eye, the changing traffic up ahead, or any wandering of your mind. It's something that only comes with practice. Don't believe me, just try it.
I was walking through a shopping centre today, & a young mother was hunched over her pram, fiddling with her phone (as people constantly do), & weaving crazily about (without actually hitting the railing). I went to go past her on one side, then managed it on the other. She was probably completely oblivious to my existence, & I might normally have forgotten about her instantly, except that I noticed someone giving me a funny look as I zoomed past her with my mission foremost in mind - getting to the cafe a little further along.
That look is the same one I've seen non-rider friends give to a motorbike that slides between cars in light traffic & gently disappears into the distance. It's a look of ... disgust ... that someone can "get ahead" so easily & leave them - & all normal people - behind.
Well, normal people, you may not all be mothers with prams & small children, but, increasingly, you are the ones playing with phones in your hands & not concentrating on your surrounds. You are being left behind.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Walking Without Noise
Four of us were walking through a pumpkin patch the other day when I realised that I could hear everyone else crunching through the old dry stalks, but I couldn't hear myself. I was now in the habit of not making noise. Making noise seems more like a waste of energy.
You've just done a double-take. Isn't it easier to not make noise? Yet, we still think in terms of "making noise". Noise doesn't happen by itself. It's a conscious effort. If you stand still - doing nothing - you don't make noise. If you stomp around, you make a lot of noise. If you walk around lightly, you make less noise. Which takes more effort?
That's not really a valid argument, but many people actually set out to make as much noise as they can when they're walking - they do stomp around, effectively. It may not be intentional; it may not even have been intended (those two are distinct). But, the fact of the matter is, that if you want to make less noise, you walk more lightly & the effort is, at least initially, in stopping yourself from assaulting the ground with your feet.
This is another example of mindfulness - being fully aware of exactly what you are doing at each moment as your foot comes down, & not letting a moment slip by without being within it. If your mind is on the end of the pumpkin patch, rather than the ground beneath your feet, then not only are you more likely to step on stalks, fall into holes unexpectedly, & sway like a drunkard, but you may not even notice that you're doing it. How do you think others might see you if they can't see that you're traversing a rutted field - if they're over a rise?
You might well say "Why would I care?" Again, I say that if you don't care about what you're doing each moment, then you're missing out on half your enjoyment. If you have your eyes on the end of the field, rather than the dirt beneath your feet, then you're going to miss the shining object dropped by someone else walking this ground as unaware as you. You're going to miss out on the way the ground was ploughed to best take advantage of the northern sun, the slope of the land, the drainage, the way the soil gets sandy off to the edge, the richness of the earth beneath you.
If you're going to go through a field without wanting to be in the field & without caring about the field itself, then why not skip the whole journey & go around the field? Why not ask someone to carry you across with your eyes closed?
Even though most people don't want to be in the field, they know that they have to accept that everyone has to cross the field. They just don't like it, they don't want to acknowledge that there are fields that have to be crossed, as if all agricultural questions are beneath them. Such people usually get to the other side of the field, shrug their shoulders, & then move to the next field with the same attitude & a sense of surprise that they've found themselves in a field - again!
I say, be outstanding in your field.
You've just done a double-take. Isn't it easier to not make noise? Yet, we still think in terms of "making noise". Noise doesn't happen by itself. It's a conscious effort. If you stand still - doing nothing - you don't make noise. If you stomp around, you make a lot of noise. If you walk around lightly, you make less noise. Which takes more effort?
That's not really a valid argument, but many people actually set out to make as much noise as they can when they're walking - they do stomp around, effectively. It may not be intentional; it may not even have been intended (those two are distinct). But, the fact of the matter is, that if you want to make less noise, you walk more lightly & the effort is, at least initially, in stopping yourself from assaulting the ground with your feet.
This is another example of mindfulness - being fully aware of exactly what you are doing at each moment as your foot comes down, & not letting a moment slip by without being within it. If your mind is on the end of the pumpkin patch, rather than the ground beneath your feet, then not only are you more likely to step on stalks, fall into holes unexpectedly, & sway like a drunkard, but you may not even notice that you're doing it. How do you think others might see you if they can't see that you're traversing a rutted field - if they're over a rise?
You might well say "Why would I care?" Again, I say that if you don't care about what you're doing each moment, then you're missing out on half your enjoyment. If you have your eyes on the end of the field, rather than the dirt beneath your feet, then you're going to miss the shining object dropped by someone else walking this ground as unaware as you. You're going to miss out on the way the ground was ploughed to best take advantage of the northern sun, the slope of the land, the drainage, the way the soil gets sandy off to the edge, the richness of the earth beneath you.
If you're going to go through a field without wanting to be in the field & without caring about the field itself, then why not skip the whole journey & go around the field? Why not ask someone to carry you across with your eyes closed?
Even though most people don't want to be in the field, they know that they have to accept that everyone has to cross the field. They just don't like it, they don't want to acknowledge that there are fields that have to be crossed, as if all agricultural questions are beneath them. Such people usually get to the other side of the field, shrug their shoulders, & then move to the next field with the same attitude & a sense of surprise that they've found themselves in a field - again!
I say, be outstanding in your field.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Driving Without Brakes (Pt 1 of many)
From 1770 to 1895, no motor vehicles on the road had brakes.
Brakes are unnatural. A horse doesn't have them. I know this from personal experience. A horse has a handbrake, which can be used to tie said horse to a tree, but applying it at speed has similar effects to applying a handbrake in a car at speed. You almost always end up going the wrong way. In my case, I went forward, & the horse had ceased to. Imagine the horse's embarrassment in finding itself casually parked under a tree, the handbrake applied (I still had the reins & was momentarily stationary), & the driver having exited through the front instead of the side access route.
My teenage foibles of long ago aside, I don't find driving cars that much safer for having brakes, but I admit to not having broken any bones doing so in the thirty-odd years I've been propelled by a petrol engine (licensed or not).
We have brakes now because we drive too fast & too badly. Those are distinct things that, along with impairment (alcohol, fatigue, drugs) account for almost all incidents on our roads. There are a very small percentage of genuine misunderstandings, momentary lapses, plainly poor roads & just bad luck.
I am careful about drinking, resting (driving with breaks), etc, & I believe I'm a conscientious driver, so the only thing left to mitigate is my speed. To that end, I have decided to drive without brakes.
"That's stupid!" I hear you cry. Well, I can imagine it, anyway, if anyone were reading this & I happened to be present.
But hear me out ... Why do you use your brakes? If you ask yourself each time you touch the brakes, think about whether it's possible that you didn't need them, if only ...
Many have said that "saving your brakes" puts a greater load on the gearbox (& clutch), but engine compression was the chief means of slowing down in early vehicles - because they didn't slow down from a high speed. If you get to a high speed & have to slow down immediately, then you've probably wasted petrol as well as brake pads.
Learning how to use your brakes less is an advanced driving technique that minimises skidding, lock-up, loss of control of the vehicle's direction, & that bruising when the seat-belt tightens or the airbags engage.
In general, becoming a driver who doesn't use their brakes can only benefit you & can never do you harm. If we could all drive without brakes, I can guarantee that there would be fewer "accidents" as well as fewer "incidents" on the road, because it's all a matter of awareness when you're behind the wheel.
Brakes are unnatural. A horse doesn't have them. I know this from personal experience. A horse has a handbrake, which can be used to tie said horse to a tree, but applying it at speed has similar effects to applying a handbrake in a car at speed. You almost always end up going the wrong way. In my case, I went forward, & the horse had ceased to. Imagine the horse's embarrassment in finding itself casually parked under a tree, the handbrake applied (I still had the reins & was momentarily stationary), & the driver having exited through the front instead of the side access route.
My teenage foibles of long ago aside, I don't find driving cars that much safer for having brakes, but I admit to not having broken any bones doing so in the thirty-odd years I've been propelled by a petrol engine (licensed or not).
We have brakes now because we drive too fast & too badly. Those are distinct things that, along with impairment (alcohol, fatigue, drugs) account for almost all incidents on our roads. There are a very small percentage of genuine misunderstandings, momentary lapses, plainly poor roads & just bad luck.
I am careful about drinking, resting (driving with breaks), etc, & I believe I'm a conscientious driver, so the only thing left to mitigate is my speed. To that end, I have decided to drive without brakes.
"That's stupid!" I hear you cry. Well, I can imagine it, anyway, if anyone were reading this & I happened to be present.
But hear me out ... Why do you use your brakes? If you ask yourself each time you touch the brakes, think about whether it's possible that you didn't need them, if only ...
- if only I'd been going a little slower into that corner
- if only I'd realised the lights were about to change
- if only I'd noticed that pedestrian earlier
- if only I'd been looking for other cars approaching the roundabout
- if only I hadn't hit the accelerator quite so much or so quickly in heavy traffic
Many have said that "saving your brakes" puts a greater load on the gearbox (& clutch), but engine compression was the chief means of slowing down in early vehicles - because they didn't slow down from a high speed. If you get to a high speed & have to slow down immediately, then you've probably wasted petrol as well as brake pads.
Learning how to use your brakes less is an advanced driving technique that minimises skidding, lock-up, loss of control of the vehicle's direction, & that bruising when the seat-belt tightens or the airbags engage.
In general, becoming a driver who doesn't use their brakes can only benefit you & can never do you harm. If we could all drive without brakes, I can guarantee that there would be fewer "accidents" as well as fewer "incidents" on the road, because it's all a matter of awareness when you're behind the wheel.
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