I went for a one day drive down to Manchester the other day, and what a drive it was…
I thought that being a blogger, I should probably write what happened and tell you all about it. So, if you are interested, read on. If you’re not, well you know what you can do.
Before I do go on, I just wanted to say that me and my Dad decided to get a Cappuccino from Costa at the motorway service station that is Killington Lake, and only had to pay £3.50 for a small coffee?!? £3.50??? I could have gone to Morrison’s and bought a large Kenco jar for that! But instead, since they seem to have you locked in, gasping for a cuppa, you pay the price and move on. Sign of the times I suppose…
I had a meeting in Manchester at around two ish, and living in the Lake District, it can take anywhere from two and a half to three hours to get down there. Thankfully, the trek down the M6 was what I would call peaceful. Personally, I like the M6, on a nice day it’s a great road to drive on.
It was when we hit the M60 and M62 that the problems started, not to mention the blackening cloud that appeared to be homing in on me and my Dad. It opened, and when it did, it poured down, I swear it was like Barbados in August, the weather was horrendous. It also became very dangerous, as the road surface suddenly transformed into a mirroring ice rink, it was very slippy, one wrong move and you either end up a steep grassy bank to the left of you or in the back of the NEXT directory lorry that is to your right. The misty spray that was also bouncing from the tyres of cars in front was also beginning to pose a threat. It was a hard decision to make. One split second decision. So what would my Dad do?
Floor it and aim for the middle.
Mercifully, we emerged from the now, dying mist. The sun eventually made an appearance and we arrived at Manchester’s ring road. Now, I’d like to say that my Dad is a very confident driver, but, I could tell that even he was bricking it. Manchester ring road is a nightmare, you really do have to be on your toes. One mistake and you take a swift turn up sh*t creek. Traffic can be the be all and end all of a driver, it will either fill them with confidence or knock it flying out of the window and have it shattered into smithereens. It can be stressful.
The entrance into cities is very frightening, especially if you have a driver that tells you he can’t see when a huge spray is spat from the back of a lorry. Driving along a motorway with very little visibility is bad enough so you can imagine how fast my heart was going when I was told that my Dad had lost sight of the car in front of us, which actually ended up being only a few metres ahead. We only realised this after the mist settled and the sun decided to pop out. We then arrived in Media City UK, in plenty of time for my meeting.
Going home is another story.
My meeting was long, I was tired and wanted to sleep, but due to the UK’s typically unpredictable weather, plus the added fact my Dad was also tired too, I had to stay awake so that we could both make it out of the hell hole that is the M62 alive. We both had to seriously concentrate, the horrible misty rain came down again, followed by rain drops the size of golf balls. I could literally see the rain bouncing off the road. It was as if the heavens had nominated the whole of Manchester to do an Ice Bucket Challenge, and God did it get soaked. I genuinely thought that the blotches of rain were going to smash the windscreen. It was really odd though because there seemed to be no wind, in fact, the air was completely still, it felt like some sort of tropical storm. It was seriously weird.
The issues then became more frustrating as the rush hour traffic began to mount up simply to get back onto the Manchester ring road. The big signs that tell you how long you’re going to be waiting in that position for before you move a fraction of an inch illuminated a 45-minute wait. Which indicated to me that I may get to see the finished design of the house that was four brick walls with a roof being fitted to my left. I even contemplated maybe seeing the second owners moving in, at the pace of the slowly moving traffic.
Eventually, we were freed, and I got to see the doors, windows and roof fitted to the semi-detached new build. I’d also managed to become a 73-year-old man with a beard in the process. We joined the M60, and managed to avoid the patter from the impending thunder shower that appeared to be imminent.
Me and my Dad decided that instead of looking at a straight bit of road with the odd sign warning us that tiredness can kill, we turned off at Kendal and headed through the South of the Lake District. While we did do that, I had time to notice that it seems very sudden that from the M6 to the start of Windermere, people change! I’m serious too, the sense of dress goes from high-end boots and coats and scarves to walking boots, an anorak and a ‘Dare 2 B’ hat that only covers half of your head.
And eventually, we ended up home. Only for me to trip over the doorway into my house.