Tinkle, Tinkle: It’s Killing Time
Ever since I bought my car five years ago it has had a strange quirk. Actually, it has had plenty, but this one in particular happened when I was driving along at around 105 or 110 km/hr. Specifically, when I went above 105, the needle would suddenly jump to 110, or vice versa. It was a little unnerving, especially since it is exactly that zone where one goes from safe, responsible speeding to being an evil, recidivist murderer-on-wheels.

Hang on. This isn’t my car.

Yeah, now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! But, um, nope, still not my car.

Woo! Yeah, definitely like this.
Well, anyway, recently I was driving along the motorway and heard a strange sound (did I mention the quirks?). It was a slight ticking sound. I turned the stereo off. (A few of my CDs have tracks featuring a police siren, and it gets me every fucking time.) The sound was still there, faint and a little erratic. It was almost like… tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. And then I remembered the sound from being in a mate’s Skyline once. It was the infamous you’re-driving-too-fast tinkle! Well, what would you have done? I sped up, cheerfully encouraging the little guy on.
It was actually quite remarkable to have solved the four-year mystery. So that’s why it jumped around at that point! Thinking about it, it looks as if someone decided to express their displeasure at this feature with very violent means, somehow munting the speedo in their quest to shut the damn thing off. Good on them, I say. I respect that kind of destructive determination. Never give up! Never surrender!
I felt it was all a bit ironic really. Consider the latest campaign by the NZ Police/LTSA. For some reason this campaign has not reached the internet, but I have recreated it for your stubborn Kiwi mind to ignore once more:

Statistically speaking, you’d be much better off to prepare to pay a speed camera ticket.
Contrast this MURDERER! approach with the more subdued admonishment of tinkle, tinkle. Perhaps it is some kind of good cop, bad cop scenario.
Of course – and I fully expect this in cars of the future – you could potentially replace the factory default with your own MP3. (That police siren would be a good one.) So as I was caning along the Northen Motorway, down the great Orewa hill, a hysterical voice would cry out from my dashboard:
“It’s the same day, David! It’s the same day!”
“I’m sorry!” I would blubber. “I’m sorry!”
(All together now:)
“Don’t say sorry to me!” the car shrieks. “Say sorry to his kids!”








