Gold Coast M1 Highway - a short rant

[Neeek]

I'm jinxed, I'm sure of it. Every time I drive down to the Gold Coast down the M1, something happens. Usually, it's rain, and lots of it; one minute you're in the daylight and the next you're under the blackest of clouds with wipers failing miserably to clear the water from the windscreen. And sometimes it's just idiot drivers lane-changing at silly speeds and driving like idiots.

But not this weekend.

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EXHIBIT A

I drove down to Mudgereeba with Greenmachine in my wagon to pick-up the wheels I bought on eBay. The journey was going well and we were cruising at about 110, when the BA in front of me started braking for no apparent reason. So I did the same. The BA braked more, and so did I. At this point, I was getting worried because BA's brakes work far better than those in my wagon. Finally, the BA performed an emergency stop in about 10 metres and there was nothing else for it but for me to stamp on the brakes (didn't lock-up, surprisingly) and come to a controlled stop no more than an inch from their back bumper, and the BA's passenger's looked back at me and no doubt saw that me eyes were the size of dinner plates and my passenger had kicked a dent in the firewall and had his fingernails embedded in the dash.

I collected my thoughts. And then I saw the reason for the stop - a little chihuahua running around the freeway.

Now don't get me wrong, I love dogs, I really do. I don't like small dogs per se, but still... If an animal is running around on the freeway and you're in traffic travelling at a decent lick, YOU DO NOT STOP! I'm sorry, but that dog should've been toast. Stopping dead on a freeway is bloody LETHAL because the traffic building up behind you can quite easily, and usually does, smash into the back of you. This is how pile-ups start.

So I pondered all this as the BA sat there and I watched the rear view mirror for the black Mazda behind me that pulled up in time... and the semi-trailer than also did (I think). So I jumped on the horn and finally after what seemed like an age, we moved off. The little dog ran down the central reservation and we passed it quickly.

Two things:

1. I hope it either got run-over or it's owner never sees it ever again.
2. I hope that there wasn't a pile-up behind us.

EXHIBIT B

On the way home, we left Mudgereeba and joined the slip road to get back on the freeway. I noted that there was a bogan VN Commodore behind me, so I gave it some beans to let him hear the acoustic delights of the Clevo. Once I was up to about 80, it became apparent that the freeway was filled with bikers - clearly they were riding in a convoy to go north for the Ride for Daniel. No trouble, I thought - I'll pop my indicator on and look for a gap. As I did this, a bloke on a Harley looked at me through my driver's window and simply shook his head.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I was doing about 80, my slip-road was rapidly shortening and no bloody biker wanted to let me in. So I slowed a bit and waited for a gap in Motorbike Hell. I'm not sure exactly how I found one, but I did and so proceeded to drive down the M1 slower than the bikies because THEY WERE EVERYWHERE.

To my left, to my right, in front and behind. We were completely surrounded. And of course, they were all riding like complete bloody idiots. When I thought they had all passed me, I got my speed up again and that's when the next "batch" of Harley-riding twats came along. Once again, weaving in an out of moving traffic, passing me both sides and clearly not giving a stuff about anything or anybody else. There must've been a thousand of them, all riding like the idiots that they clearly were.

Finally, it seemed that the bloke at the front decided to make a pit stop at Helensvale... so the snake of popping and farting tractor-bikes decided to move from the fast lane to the slip road in one fell swoop... at 100km/h. It was absolute chaos and I'm staggered that no-one got killed.

Three things:

1. No-one, unless they have blue or orange flashing lights, has the right to tell me I can't merge with traffic off a slip-road and onto a freeway.
2. Bikers in a convoy that number more than about 25 should either ride passively and not dominate the road, or get a police escort.
3. As evidenced by my experience, the vast majority of Harley riders are... well, the swear-filter will make my feelings all blank, but you get the idea. Gents, if you're reading this you're not doing your clan ANY favours by riding like that.

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