David Mor­ley

Motor (Australia) - - HOT SOURCE. FAST CAR GUIDE -


LET’S GET SOME­THING STRAIGHT right from the off: I don’t ever want to see kids (or al­most any­body else) get­ting hurt in the name of en­joy­ing them­selves. I take my own fun very se­ri­ously, and the idea that you could be­come in­jured or worse just be­cause you were try­ing to en­joy your­self is a shocker. And yet it hap­pens. Any­body who can keep kids safe while al­low­ing them to con­tinue to have fun should be on a win­ner.

So I can see where the idea of pill-check­ing came from as a means of harm min­imi­sa­tion. The idea is that kids rock up to a mu­sic fes­ti­val and, while they have their bags searched, they can also sub­mit their Go-Go Pills to a gov­ern­ment-funded grown-up who can test them and make sure they’re not go­ing to leave ju­nior ly­ing in the mosh-pit, froth­ing from the gills un­til the stretcher ar­rives.

The counter ar­gu­ment is that the con­sump­tion of il­lic­its – even in the name of fun – is il­le­gal, and of­fer­ing to per­form a free qual­ity test is sim­ply en­cour­ag­ing il­le­gal be­haviour. I can see both sides of this. But there’s a real sim­ple so­lu­tion – don’t take drugs, kids. Yeah, right...

It’s true, of course; lay­ing off the ec­cies would re­duce the harm. No-brainer. But so would hunt­ing down the shit­bags who cook this toxic muck in sub­ur­ban kitchens all over the coun­try. And shoot­ing them. Se­ri­ously, how can a po­lice force that can track a high-IQ whitecol­lar crim across three con­ti­nents and be wait­ing for him at the air­port bar be un­able to iden­tify and cor­ner some brain-fried douchenoz­zle when he stag­gers down to the shop in his dress­ing gown for his Winny Blues and 400 boxes of cold-and-flu tablets?

In any case, just say­ing no (thanks Nancy Rea­gan) is fir­ing marsh­mal­lows at the Town Hall. Noth­ing is go­ing to stop young­sters scoff­ing a palm-full of happy beans at a three-dayer. So it looks like pill-check­ing might be a wise move. If you can’t stop il­le­gal con­duct, at least make it safe, right?

Okay, fine. But here it is from my an­gle. As a bloke who pays more tax than the first three rows of a mu­sic fes­ti­val, I want my ques­tion­able be­haviour treated in the same man­ner. I like to drive quickly, so I need the gov­ern­ment to build a work­shop where I can wheel my car in and have it checked over by a sci­en­tist to make sure noth­ing is go­ing to go wrong as I tip it into a hair­pin. I want it for free and it can’t lead to any fur­ther at­tempt by the law to stop me, even though they’ll know ex­actly what I’ll be up to. Just like pill-check­ing.

I’m think­ing a big work­shop fa­cil­ity at the start of the Putty Road and an­other one at the en­trance to the Alpine Way. For starters. And if it proves suc­cess­ful, then just as the gov­ern­ment has done for the il­licit drug in­dus­try with safe in­ject­ing rooms, we can move on to safe burnout cul-de-sacs where I can drop a few skids while an emer­gency crew watches and steps in to haul me clear of the burn­ing wreck when it all goes wrong.

Just like the fes­ti­val ravers, I need to have the law-mak­ers un­der­stand that I’m not about to stop my quest for fun just be­cause it’s dan­ger­ous and il­le­gal. Why should I? Face it, all th­ese ac­tiv­i­ties oc­cur be­cause we’re fun­da­men­tally bored first-world risk-tak­ers. And that’s not our fault. Er, is it?

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