Motorway madness

The other day there was another case of an elderly driver going the wrong way on a motorway. On this occasion the couple in the car, both in their eighties, and the 30-year-old driver of another car, were all killed.

Aside from the question of how on earth it was possible to enter the wrong side of the motorway in the first place, missing all the signs for the correct slip road, I wonder if yet again an elderly motorist refused to admit that he or she was no longer safe on the roads and should stop driving.

I ask myself, would I willingly recognise that I was no longer a competent driver and stop driving before I caused some calamity? Or would I keep kidding myself I was safe enough, though maybe not quite so alert or clear-sighted as I used to be, and carry on driving just the same?

I ask that because it seems quite a lot of elderly drivers kid themselves they're still safe on the roads when they're not. They end up crashing into another car, careering into a shopfront, driving on the wrong side of a motorway, or killing someone. I want to admit my failings before I do something disastrous.

I've already decided not to hire a car to drive on unfamiliar roads, as it feels too risky. I've driven several times between the M11 and Stansted Airport, and I find all the different lanes and roundabouts too confusing for my liking. It was always a relief to return the car without mishap.

I would never drive in another country, where not only are the roads unfamiliar but I might be driving on a different side and facing road signs in foreign languages. I would be far too nervous to enjoy it.

Drivers who won't admit they've become a liability are a public menace.

Losing control

I have a deep fear of losing control of my life, of everything unravelling and disorder and chaos taking over.

I fear that at any moment the precarious web of underpinnings that my life depends on could collapse and leave me floundering and helpless.

I never assume, as others do, that my life will just trundle on in much the same way for the next umpteen years with nothing to worry about but minor ups and downs.

Totally irrational of course, because in reality my life has been fairly uneventfully trundling on for several decades. There's been no major disaster to knock everything off track.

Yet here I am obsessing over keeping control of everything and worrying that just one bad decision or careless moment could send me over the precipice, like one of those cartoon characters who takes a step too far and ends up hovering in mid air.

But maybe my anxiety is a perfectly normal response to the fragility of modern life and our dependence on so many people and things that are beyond our personal control - economic crises, wars, natural disasters, incompetent governments.

Maybe it's the assumption of everything carrying on as before, of everything we rely on continuing ad infinitum, that is the irrational view. And then when something calamitous does occur, it comes as a much nastier shock than it should have done. It seems like the end of the world rather than a temporary setback.

Oh well, I'm not floundering and helpless just yet. It must be divine intervention.