I
’m sitting here writing this while
outside, it’s mid-June and it’s
raining like something out of the
Bible. Something out of the Bible
involving a lot of rain, obviously. You
know what I’m on about.
This time last year, we were
well on the way to being slowly roasted.
Now here we are dissolving. It’s all very
unpredictable, very British and, well, pretty
concerning if you belieZe the scientifi c
evidence about climate change.
Right now, there’s widespread ¾ ash
¾ ooding in ;ales. At this precise moment,
I’m not long home from the supermarket
and on the way there, I encountered a
small lake across a main road. The town
where I live has a wide expanse in the
middle of it called the ;ashlands, and by
tomorrow morning I suspect it will have
disappeared below the River Trent. Even
my sons’ school got in on the act, when a
¾ at roof turned into a sieZe and the kitchen
turned into a reservoir.
The bit about the lake across the road,
anyway. I love stuff like this. I was behind
the wheel of a Nissan X-Trail we’ve got in
on test, so not exactly a hardcore off-road
wagon. In front of me, I had to sit waiting
while a guy in a Mk1 Kia Sorento laboured
over a three-point turn and others pulled
over on to the pavement to sit wringing
their hands for a bit, then fi nally when my
time came I was able to do the bow wave
thing and proceed smugly on my way.
Like hell. I was able to put the boot in,
send up a pair of mighty roosters and be a
complete and utter show-off, all the while
cackling like a madman.
The bit about being smug was right,
though. It took me back to a similar incident
in the summer of 2007, when I came across
a much bigger ¾ ood coZering an entire
road junction somewhere in Leicestershire.
I was in a Qashqai (there’s something
about Nissans, obviously) and this time the
people turning round ahead of me were in
a new-looking Discovery and Range Rover.
As they drew alongside me, one of them
rolled his window down and more or less
commanded me to accept that I wouldn’t
make it. ‘It’s too deep for me, so you’ve no
chance,’ that kind of thing.So I thanked him... and set off straight
through, leaning out my window to gauge
the depth of the water – which never
even came up to the Qashqai’s hubs. I was
tempted to back up for another go, and
to openly mock the guy at the same time
(he’d stayed put, presumably to watch me
fail), but even I am not that infantile.
So, water is fun. Flooding is fun, so long
as it’s not the kind that turns people’s lives
upside down, and green laning on fi rm
trails with big puddles eZery fi Ze yards
is absolutely hilarious. I know of people
who, right now, will be getting together for
some soaking wet night-time laning. Again,
so long as it’s on fi rm trails that can take
it, no harm done. Unless it’s Strata Florida,
in which case anyone having a stab at it
in these conditions is putting their life in
danger. Not funny, Most of us remember
what happened eight or nine years ago.
;here am I going with all this# I think
the point I set out to make was that when
the going gets gnarly, that’s when owning a
4x4 comes into its own.
;e see it in snow, of course. And we see
it when the rain gets bad enough to cause
disruption. You look at the forecast and you
see all those weather warnings and you
think yeah, suckers, well I’ll be able to make
it to work.
And then, if you’re that guy in the old
7orento, your bottle goes at the fi rst sign
of trouble. Discretion is the better part of
valour, of course, but knowing how to drive
off-road is the better part of owning a 4x4.
Yes, and showing off is the better part of
making everyone hate you. I get that. Doing
roosters in ¾ oods is the x eUuiZalent of
a biker doing wheelies at the lights. And
maybe you don’t want to be that guy.
But sitting in a Discovery and loftily
telling the world you can’t get through
water that’s only about six inches deep# All
the gear and no idea. And you really don’t
want to be that guy...Tel: 01283 553243
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Alan /idd
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Assignment Media 0td, 201 Alan Kidd
Editor
Owning a
4x4 comes
into its own
when stuff
gets gnarly
6 | AU+U7T 201 4x