Crossing the English Channel
With the numerous car boat trips over the years, we have had a few mishaps with parking – sorry, should say ‘packing’ - the car into a boat or hovercraft.
As you manoeuvre from a bright outside into a gloomy metallic underworld, one sees a Golem like gestalt meandering around directing with frantic arm movements vehicles in this or that corner where no one in there right mind would normally put one (a vehicle not a Golem).
Any hesitation on the part of the driver results in the Golem either pushing or dragging the object of its scorn to its designated doom, accompanied by screeching brakes and burning rubber. And when your time comes you see the hypnotic gleam in their glowing eyes as they decide - by mentally tossing a coin - if you are to be the lucky one in being placed up against the hull so that you can at least get out when the time comes, or placed with the luckless ones boxed in so that you’re doomed to a smelly swaying catacomb for the duration of the trip.
Most of these confrontations end in minor skirmishes without loss of collateral, but on two trips our Golem overseer waved us on and on and on so that we got closer and closer and closer to the car in front. The distance to go was indicated with the time old gesture of stiff hands vertically apart.
You’ve got to ‘hand’ it to them, fooled every time into believing they are on your side and then the impact and your jogged back to reality. As you glance up 'it' gives you a monstrous grin between two thumbs up, turns and wanders off into the gloom to find another victim..
As you manoeuvre from a bright outside into a gloomy metallic underworld, one sees a Golem like gestalt meandering around directing with frantic arm movements vehicles in this or that corner where no one in there right mind would normally put one (a vehicle not a Golem).Any hesitation on the part of the driver results in the Golem either pushing or dragging the object of its scorn to its designated doom, accompanied by screeching brakes and burning rubber. And when your time comes you see the hypnotic gleam in their glowing eyes as they decide - by mentally tossing a coin - if you are to be the lucky one in being placed up against the hull so that you can at least get out when the time comes, or placed with the luckless ones boxed in so that you’re doomed to a smelly swaying catacomb for the duration of the trip.Most of these confrontations end in minor skirmishes without loss of collateral, but on two trips our Golem overseer waved us on and on and on so that we got closer and closer and closer to the car in front. The distance to go was indicated with the time old gesture of stiff hands vertically apart.
You’ve got to ‘hand’ it to them, fooled every time into believing they are on your side and then the impact and your jogged back to reality. As you glance up 'it' gives you a monstrous grin between two thumbs up, turns and wanders off into the gloom to find another victim..
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