Only Dicks Speed

So usually I write a story each week, but there has been something on my mind a lot lately that I felt I needed to put into words. It’s something I want us to talk about over the next few months, and it’s something I want you to share with as many people as possible.
Here we go.

We’re coming into one of the deadliest times on the roads. The Christmas / New Year break.
We all know not to speed, and once again the police tolerance will be just 4km over the limit. And yet we also know there’ll be people who think they’re above the law, and those people will probably take lives.

And it’s those people that make me really angry. Because there’s no need for it. There is never an excuse good enough to warrant speeding.

“Enjoy the journey.”
“Better to arrive late than not at all.”
“Take your time, and take lots of stops.”
We’ve all heard the messages from the NZTA, and now here’s one from me.

Speeding is a really dick-ish thing.
If you go ahead and kill yourself, fine. But first, think how it will affect your family and your friends, those who will mourn your loss and wonder what life may have been. Think of how it affects other drivers on the road, the people who swerve to avoid you, or rush out of their cars to help. Think of how it affects the first responders, who have already seen too many incidents in their lifetimes.

But here’s the thing, most speeders kill other people. And that’s when it gets really selfish.

Because what your actions say is that you think you’re the best driver in the world, and that you know better. You know better than the people that planned the roads, that set the speeds, and that enforce the law.

And, you’re saying that your life is better than everyone’s; that your life is worth more. Because why else would you risk the lives of other drivers, of passengers, of children that may also be sharing the same roads as you.

If you speed and you kill yourself, I believe that’s Darwinism at work. But if you speed and kill someone else, you’re proving to be moronic and selfish and a complete dick.

Only dicks speed.

Don’t be a dick. Please.

Week 27

Only slightly aware of the speeds he was hitting, Dane’s car weaved in and out of traffic.
As he closed in on those in front of him, he felt like a predator gaining on its prey, and with the passing of each car, it was like swallowing the vehicles whole.
It wasn’t long before the flash of blue and red swirled in his mirrors but Dane ignored them – his focus straight ahead.
Coming to traffic lights, he slowed slightly, gave a double toot of the horn and a quick glance each way before continuing on.
The further into the city Dane went, the more obvious it was that cars were moving out of his way. However as he reached the heart, he was forced to stop further out than he liked; jumping out of the car and racing on foot pass the gathering crowds and media.
Cordons had already been set up, but Dane simply held up his badge as he kicked his legs over the white tape and made his way onto the scene.
Two more colleagues had pulled up next to his car, their lights beautifully out of sync with his, still flashing. Their expressions were a mirror of his own: concerned and confused.
Inside the cordon was one of the biggest banks in the country, and inside the bank were the bodies of four men. Now it was up to Dane to work out exactly what led to this.

Week 25

The world is so unfair. There’s so much injustice in it.

First up, my neighbour gets arrested on suspicion of burglary, even though he had an airtight alibi. Next, my best friend gets picked up for the same job, when he was innocent too!

And now, because I’m an “associate” of them both, the cops want to interview me.

No way. What’s the trouble? I’m their alibi. I know they’re both innocent but the police don’t want to believe it. Even my dad thinks they’re involved, and therefore I am too.

The truth is, we were all at Liam’s place – my neighbour – watching some stupid movies with unbelievable stunts. You know the type, the ones that are so impossible and unlikely, and yet seem so plausible and incredible at the time.

Well, we were there all day – about six hours – watching the original, the sequel and then the third movie they really shouldn’t have made.

And I know that I should talk to the cops, but I also know they’ve already made their minds up.

It doesn’t matter what I say, and how many one-liners I repeat from the flicks. We’ll all end up in court and that’ll be the end of any decent career.

Not that I know exactly what I want to do at the moment, but hey, that’s not the point, is it?

So instead, I’m hanging out at my mum’s grave and suddenly wishing I’d helped dad with his deliveries instead of going over to Liam’s.

Dad reckons he was back around midday and that we weren’t there, but we were! The curtains were closed because the sun was hitting the TV and ruining a movie that was more than capable of ruining itself. And anyway, surely he would’ve heard the explosions and gun fire since we had the TV so loud.

I’m watching the sunset and feeling ice settle on my bones. It’s time to move. I can’t stay here all night. Can’t go home, either.

As I stand, it looks like I don’t have to worry about figuring out a place to sleep, because I can see the glow of blue and red from in the carpark. Two men in blue are already walking towards me and there’s nowhere I can run to, not that I probably could when I’m this cold.

I shake my head. They won’t believe me. If they haven’t believed the others, why would they believe me?

One of them tells me I need to come down to the station, but he’s not acting aggressive, not putting me in handcuffs. The other one looks half bored.

Something doesn’t feel right, but I let them lead me to the car.

They’re so casual about it all, you’d think they were just taking me home instead of downtown.

I expect to see dad waiting for me as we walk in, but he’s not here. They lead me down the hallway to the left, the way I came last year when I had to ID the guy who stole dad’s car.

Again, it doesn’t feel right.

As I’m taken through another set of doors and then motioned through to a small room, I realise I’m not here as a suspect.