Speed kills

Narrow's been working way out in the middle of nowhere this weekend, like, north of Hornsby, which I'm pretty sure is the arctic circle, or at least the equator. He rang me yesterday to ask if there were any speed cameras between Hornsby and Greenland because he'd probably been going over the freeway speed limit, but it WAS RAINING SO HARD HE WOULDN'T HAVE SEEN THE 'HERE COMES A SPEED CAMERA' SIGNS. Again: he was going faster than one hundred and ten kilometres an hour, in rain so pelting he couldn't see off the side of the road. And when I say, 'You'll have an accident', his response is, 'No I won't, I don't feel like I'm out of control.'

Because every person who's ever had a high speed accident in the rain on the freeway knew that they were not in control of the vehicle well before they lost it completely and rolled towards their fiery doom. The only reason people have accidents is they suffer a crisis of confidence.