After crossing the snarled up traffic in town on the way to Saltaire Church we hit a long queue of traffic, the kind of queue that moves so slowly it makes you want to bash your head on the steering wheel in frustration, or maybe that’s just me. Anyhow, every man and his motor are in the lane going straight on to Saltaire. Meanwhile the lane for traffic turning right into Shipley is completely car free, clear to the end. Ooh the dilemma….
When I’m not Chauffeuring I’m what you may loosely describe as an ‘opinionated driver’. Okay, so I’m a hot tempered jobsworth. I might for example pull alongside people I see using their phones whilst driving and suggest other ideas as to what they could do with their phones. I may have occasionally pursued bad mannered drivers in order to explain the finer points of the Highway Code. I have frequently gone nose to bumper with the car in front to stop a queue jumper pushing in, complete with Clint Eastwood style growling and Italian hand gestures. Queue jumping makes my blood boil.
So, do I break my own moral code to get my girl to Church on time? You bet I do! It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it. I’ve got half a mile to go a full tank of gas, it’s sunny and I’m wearing shades. I’m thinking Jake and Elwood Blues. I’m sort of on a mission from God. I put the pedal to the metal and we split down to the lights past around 30 or 40 cars. Naughty girl!
As we cruise past the last few I need to find someone who will let me nose Pearl in front of them when the lights go green. Before I say a word there’s a pinch faced woman who shoots me a look to say ‘I just got divorced, don’t expect an ounce of sympathy from me’ and she turns away and goes nose to bumper with the Corsa in front driven by a rat-boy who is slouched so badly he looks like he’s driving from the back seat. He’s got a mean face and a giro to cash before the post office closes so I’m not even asking.
At the head of the line is a Gent in a Jag. This could go either way… I drop the window and in my sweetest voice I apologise for being so bad and ask him if he would be a darling and let us hop in front. He smiles, says ‘Of course!’ wishes the bride well and waves us on.
The wedding party are thoroughly impressed with my badness and the bride is smiling and happy because she knows she’s going to make it. Which makes me feel that even though I broke the rules I did the right thing. A bit like Dirty Harry 
