Brian Rogers Rogers Rabbits www.sunlive.co.nz

Rogers continues to lurch in a state of physical, and some would say, mental malfunction this week. The staff thought it appropriate therefore this week to re-visit a classic column and decided to check out the issue of the day, from 10 years ago. This RR column is plucked from the archives of September 2004.

Tauranga drivers take a lot of borax. They ask for it. This column takes a swipe at the city's driving standards.

I cannot resist, after a couple of bizarre events on the road (but normal for Tauranga) this week makes me think things have reached an all time low. Plus, the latest Land Transport Safety Authority studies put the cost of Tauranga's accidents at $2.7 million a week.

We all consider ourselves good drivers, so it is a bit puzzling. Who are the bad ones?

Personally, I suspect all of you out there.

Like all other Tauranga drivers, I know I am a good one.

We learnt Defensive Driving from an early age. No, it wasn't from a course, either. Although in later years I did attend an official Defensive Driving Course. And I know what you're thinking – but it wasn't instructed by the Court. It was an employer-subsidised voluntary course. What shocked me the most, was that people had to actually be TAUGHT these things. I came away quite terrified that there were people who'd made it onto the road who needed telling such basic common sense ideas.

60's Biker

Anyway the real defensive driving lessons came from riding a bicycle in Tauranga in the sixties and seventies. You know, when it was safe to venture from the rural out-skirts (Waihi Rd summit!) toward Cameron Rd, piloting anything less robust than an Armoured Personnel Carrier. Of course in those days you didn't need a helmet, although a towelling hat was handy to keep the sun off your face and the mullet out of your eyes.

Take a spin down the Waihi Road hill on a mate's Raleigh 20 – pedal flat knackers past Ricki Marshall's place, break the sound barrier just beyond Peter Ghinis's driveway; reach Mach 2 by the time you flash past Gregory Parson's street – at these speeds and being fairly vulnerable on a vehicle with wheels the size of a drinks trolley, you soon get the gist of anticipating Trouble long before it hits you.

Trouble usually comes in the form of a Humber 80, quite swanky for its day, rolling out of Judea Road.

At this point you either: a) deploy your defensive driving instincts or b) spend the rest of the after-noon picking pieces of Raleigh and Rogers from the carriageway -- a fairly even spread between the Judea saleyards and Goodwin Homes.

We biked a lot of places in those days, before there was much worry about traffic volume, expressways and the spectre of child molesters at every corner.

The city has not only got bigger, but more importantly, it's busier and less bicycle-friendly.

Often the only way to really have a social life was to bike. Although I think John Martin and Derek Jopson were a bit extreme, pedalling their single-geared ape-hangers around East Cape.

So when young Tauranga blokes got their licences, usually from the Weetbix packet, most already had an in-built instinct about defensive driving, anticipating trouble and a sixth peripheral sense for approaching Humbers.

Even though it was pretty easy to get a driver's licence we still had a good basic, common sense instinct of how to keep out of trouble. Of course, it didn't help in times of freak acts of nature, such as Ross Willoughby putting stones in the Hillman's hubcaps, or my brother's unfortunate incident with that duck on Station Road.

But most of us are still here today (although I haven't seen much of the duck lately) so we must have been doing something right.

Causing trouble

But getting back to my point; I felt a lot safer on the Raleigh around Tauranga -- with only a brim of towelling on top, and a pair of jandals below as a buffer between myself and inherent dangers -- than I do these days. That's despite the proliferation of ABS brakes, side intrusion bars, airbags and, for when the Humber strikes, a cellphone to call *555, the AA and the insurance company.

A lot of drivers these days don't seem to have the knack of anticipating trouble. Only causing it.

Perhaps we should all get out from behind our air conditioned, velour comfort zones, do refresher courses on Raleighs, take a white-knuckled grip on the cold steel handle bars and remind ourselves of the realities.

Maybe Tauranga would be a safer place to drive, and ride.

My apologies to those family members, for having to raise the duck issue again.