Roads and Highways

One of the things I most wanted to confront you yanks about was your appauling waste of resources, and flagrant disregard to our ecology.

I looked forward to tackling your arguments on global warming being a form or refraction and having little to do with CO2 emissions, of Ethanol being possibly worse for the environment than Unleaded fuel, and of natural landscapes such as alaska being descimated by scarring oil fields ripping through the beautiful landscape.

What I found though was a little unexpected, terribly complicated and very unsettling.

The US really is a different place to britain, and just because we (loosely) share a language, doesnt mean we are brothers. We have, in fact, been born on different sides of the same street, and even though we stand together and fight together, at times are as different as montagues and capulets. Never is it more apparent than with the use of oil, or specifically unleaded fuel.

Firstly, I will get on my high horse. In britain we tax all car fuels heavily so as to discourage the use of cars. We also have a car tax to help pay for the expensive upkeep of the road network. We have catalytic converters to ensure a minimal amount of CO2 emissions, and we have an MOT text annually for every car to ensure all emissions are down to a minimum. The MOT test also ensures that the car is completely up to safety levels, such as tyre tread, break efficiency, and various tests on bodywork, frames, axles and engine efficiencies. You can fail an MOT (and have your car taken off the road) for excessive rust.

We do these things because we recognise the danger that cars present, and we wish to minimise the amount of accidents we have. We also spend thousands of pounds in advertising campaigns advertising road safety encouraging slower speeds, avoiding fast breaking, encouraging watching the road etc. We have a written drivers test, involving a multiple choice questionaire and  a virtual reality hazard test.

The practical part of the examination involves an eyesight test, and a vehicle safety test, so you know where to put the oil in etc... before continuing with the actual driving test. You will be asked to prove you can complete emergency breaks, three point turns, reversing round corners, reverse parallel parking as well as showing you are a considerate and confident driver.

Its expensive, its  hard, and we often fail. Its meant to be like that so we realise the full responsibility of having what is effectively a weapon under our control.

You will lose your licence if you have no insurance, if you drive under the influence, if you speed consistantly, if you have no road tax disk, if you drive recklessly, if you are overloaded, if your vehicle is faulty in any way, and if the police stop you they are entitled to check every detail of the outside of your car, and book you for anything from faulty lights to low tyre pressure.

We have stringent laws because firstly it makes our cars easier to control and safer to drive, and secondly it makes them more efficient and less harmful to the environment.

Before I get all holier than thou, though I came to understand that in the US things are painfully different not because you dont believe in the tennets of safety and efficiency, but that you simply dont know how to go about starting.

For a start your cities are so spaced out that you need a car to get from one part to another, and boy what roads you built for the job. Giant eight to ten lane freeways taking you from the suburbs to the city centres. Built for purpose is the phrase used, and unlike the tight windey roads you find in the UK whos single lanes meander around villages and farms and rivers and woods, your roads dominate the countryside ripping through the dusty plains like nasca lines, creating a network of magnificent runways ready for the american mechanical caterpillar to take people to work and back again.

To imagine a world where cars are not the dominant species is to imagine a world of futility. The feckless tracks would be like a skeleton of some ancient dinosaur sprawled across the descolate terrain. You would be like the african tribespeople who carry baskets upon their heads just to collect your groceries from the local corner shop, or to get a chicken strip from your drive through Chick-fil-a.

Its not that Americans dont care about the environment, its just that to imagine a world with no cars is to reinvent the wheel.

As for the safety aspects us brits are used to. The US is based on a belief that everyone is responsible for their own actions. To tell an american that protection of its people is the job of the authorities is the same as to tell a lion the mobster thrown into his cage is not a suprise midnight snack. I can just see him raising an eyelid and with a stretch of his mighty claws purring the words...

"Suuuuure!"

Instead, the whole system is set up ready for litigation. You bump into me, well im gonna sue you, and if it turns out you had no tread on your tyres, well youre going to end up paying more.... Its a simple system, and it should work if it wasnt for the fact that most people cant afford to change their tyres when they need changing, or maintain their oil filters, or check their breaks or do the thousand other things needing to be done.

What starts off as being a world of choice ends up being choice for those that can pay, and risk for those that cant.

In the end it is no surprise that when petrol prices rise by 10c, the whole country goes into panic freefall. In a country that finds itself so stretched for money, be it because of doctors fees and medical bills, or munitians spending and securities taxes, every cent is hard earned and carefully spent, and change is often an unnecessary risk too far.

To see a way out of the sandstorm of problems climate change is causing the people of the US takes a minor miracle, and trying to convince them that reducing fuel emissions by using more efficient cars is like trying to convince a dog not to sniff butt. In the end, even if they do believe you, they cant do anything about it.

I learnt alot on my trip. I saw alot I didnt expect to see and heard alot I hadnt imagined people would say. Mostly though, I learnt that we are all reasonable people going through a different set of circumstances, and my hollier than thou, look down on you attitude wont help a single soul. We need solutions to tough problems, we need to listen to each other alot more, to understand each others situations and consider each others dilemas. We need patience and empathy. And we need to talk more, we need to be aware that we can be wrong, that others can do it better, and that we can learn from each other without saying, well thats okay for you, but its totally different here.

Mostly though, we need to stand up and have the grace and humility to say "I was wrong"

I was wrong.

I was wrong, but I'm learning.

Too Late to be a Father

I havent talked too much about my fantastic trip to Oklahoma, probably because to me it was so personal, but I wanted to tell you about something that happened today. My fiance Angela has two children. One J is a nine year old rebellious boy, who is funny, energetic and hard to handle if you have a headache. The other J is 5, she is sweet, adorable and wonderfully manipulative.

They are two typical adorable smart kids. I was truly worried about them before I left for the US. Angela, I had spoken to for hours on end about everything and anything, laughing the nights away, but her children were another matter. I knew that the success of our relationship would depend on how I managed with her two precocious kids.

When I arrived and met my Angel in the airport, we were as we always knew we would be, in love. The next few hours however, whilst we chatted in a restaurant, were nervy. How would they take me, would they take one look and decide I would never be included into their family, or would they think of me instantly as a climbing frame, how would a guy with no children of his own deal with two kids for the first time.

The fact that they were at their grandma's, another daunting prospect, made the experience all the more terrifying. As i tentatively walked through the swing door, having never seen an american front room and unsure wheher to expect a gun rack and a moose head staring at me from the far wall, a tiny high pitched voice screamed "PETER!" and a scamp no taller than a push bike had leapt on me and in a frenzy of blonde locks i was forced backwards. Naturally i could do nothing except grab the hairy rogue pixie by the legs and dangle her upside down. This caused instant giggles and the other one clearly decided it was safe and I was entitled to a hug. A rare treat as it turned out.

I have never felt so elated or bowled over before by such undeserved emotion. Something I intend to justify in the coming years.

The reason I mention them today is because whilst on the phone earlier to my beloved as she collected the kids from daycare, i overheard the school teacher inform her that her son, the tear-away, the vagabond, the waife, the street-urchin, the funniest 9 year old i have ever met, had won Student of the Year. I filled with Joy and Pride for him, laughing and smiling like a cheshire cat as I danced around the kitchen.

It reminded me of scoring the winning goal in the playground football match, or getting the deciding question in the pub quiz. I wanted to pick him up and spin him round in the air. To watch him look down on my excited face in laughing wonderment. And it didnt matter that he was not my blood. It didnt matter that he would never think of me as father. Just like my father looked after my half brother as a son, I was happy to do the same to him. To love him and care for him and protect him and guide him as best as I could. To nurture his imagination and fill him with ideas that had given me so many tremendous dreams.

You know, i'm getting on a bit now. My crows feet are growing and revealing my secrets to the world. And It may be all too late now for me to be a father. I'm sure I had my opportunities, but I always thought there would be more time. I may have missed my chance to see the birth of my blood, of my creation, of my child. I may never experience what its like to see that beautiful crimson squished up face regard you with such sincerity and need, or that tiny hand with nails like flakes of cheese, and chunky palms like tiny sandbags reach up and grab my nose. I may never know what it is to be helplessly stunned by such a helpless baby. It may be too late for me to be a father, but maybe , just maybe it's not too late for me to be a dad.