The A30 can be a hunting ground when grockles are afoot.....
But let's step back in time. The year was 1973. The destination was Oulton Park. I was in my '70 Midget - in Glacier White. My mate was in his '66 MGB. Formerly Mineral Blue it had just been resprayed Harvest Gold to make it look new. We were both on painted wire wheels. At that time I travelled everywhere at max revs in every gear, and wheelspins starts - you know, the usual laddish behaviour - now the territory of Corsaboy. We stopped for fuel at Middlewich. I pulled out of the filling station and accelerated hard down the main street (30 limit). My single silencer exhaust resonated off the buildings.....
Just as I flicked into third gear, a plump policeman jumped out from behind a pub and stood in the middle of the road. He was like one of those comic postcard coppers. I had the usual stern caution........then "How fast were you going?"
(Gulp)...I made a quick mental calculation. I reckoned it must have been 50plus. "about 40" I garbled. I was shaking with fear at this point and must have been as white as the Midget.
To cut a long story short, when the summons arrived I was clocked at 43, so my "about 40" stacked up really well. I got an £11 fine and an endorsement. Speed traps in those days looked like a piece of wire layed in the gutter leading to a small black box. No radar guns, and certainly no cameras.
To put that £11 into perspective, petrol would have been maybe 40p/45p a gallon.
