A JURASSIC MIRACLE
Seventeen years into his service career, Garry Mizon has come to the rather depressing conclusion that he isn’t a very good police officer. He might be big, strong and fast enough to look the part, but all too often his instincts let him down and he makes the wrong call. His paperwork is sloppy, violence sickens him, and he lacks the knack of talking down explosive situations. Only by the skin of his teeth has he escaped a career-ending catastrophe.
His one skill is that of being an excellent driver. Which is why, 17 years later, he is still just a traffic officer.
It’s dull but, on the whole, he prefers dull to disastrous.
It is 7.45pm on a breezy evening in May and Garry, parked on a vantage platform on the northbound A1M, has received a call that a dinosaur is on the loose. The 20ft high, helium-filled inflatable has escaped its mooring atop the town’s museum and was last seen flying in a north-westerly direction. Coming his way.
Garry wonders how he might deal with a T-rex bouncing its way into oncoming traffic, and whether he’d ever get over the embarrassment of driving back into town with it tethered atop his police Range Rover. “Watch out, it’s Gazza. Do you think he saurus?”
The twilight is deepening and this section of the road is unlit, but Garry can read the movement of headlights as well as he does that of vehicles in the daytime and so he spots the anomaly while it is still half a kilometre away. Cars are braking hard and swerving. One pair of headlights stands out, picking up speed, veering around the middle lane. Drunk driver, Garry thinks. He activates the radio.
“Possible incident on the A1, northbound carriageway. Getting ready to pursue.”
The headlights are upon him. In the split second that the car draws level, he feels his heart stop.
He doesn’t swear – he never swears. Instead, he says, “Red Volkswagen up! travelling at speed. No visible driver.”
Garry turns on the siren and accelerates down the access ramp to join the carriageway.
“Behind the vehicle now,” he tells control. “Seven three in a seven zero. No driver visible. Repeat no driver visible.”
Garry is no longer thinking actively about driving – everything he does until this is over will be done without thinking or planning. He and the car will be one. Pulling into the fast lane he draws level with the other car and sees the problem.
A big problem. “Driver collapsed
at the wheel.”
His siren is doing nothing to rouse the unconscious driver. Garry sounds his horn, once, twice, again.
“Appears to be male,” he says. “Unresponsive. Suspect a foot stuck on the accelerator. Speed climbing.”
And then the dreadful situation becomes worse. He sees two terrified young faces gaping at him from the back seat of the Volkswagen. A third appears. A dog. Gingercoloured Vizsla.
“Runaway vehicle has passengers. Repeat – runaway vehicle has passengers. Two minors.”
If ever there was a time to swear, this would be it.
He has three options. One – drive directly ahead of the Volkswagen and deploy fractional braking, creating a controlled collision.
At more than 70 miles an hour though, the other car could swerve on impact and crash. Even if Garry succeeds in stopping it, he’ll have two stationary vehicles in the middle lane of a fast-moving motorway, along with two kids, an injured driver and a dog to get to safety. He dismisses that plan.
Two – stay behind the Volkswagen and keep oncoming traffic at bay until the runaway car slows by itself or – more likely – hits an immoveable object. Had the driver been alone, that would almost certainly be the preferred option. But with two kids in the car and a dog…
Ahead, he sees that they are less than a kilometre from a bend in the road, where a railway bridge spans the carriageway. If the car holds its course, it will hit the crash barrier, bounce over it and hurtle towards the bridge arch. None of its four occupants will survive. In less than a second, Garry has dismissed option two. He taps
threend
Which leaves option his brakes and a second – use the size and weight of later feels a thud of impact. his own vehicle to slow the The Range Rover is jerked Volkswagen and steer it to forward but the Volkswagen safety. Would he get holds its course. permission from control to Saying a silent prayer, attempt this manoeuvre? Garry brakes harder. The Not in a million years. speed is dropping, but both
Is he up to it? Looks like cars are closing on the he’s about to find out. bend. He steers right and drops back. Feeling sweat break out on his temples, he pushes the red car sideways again. Forty-five miles an hour now, 43, 40. The air is filled with the stench of burning. Still too fast.
Two hundred metres before the bend. In front once more, Garry allows the
Drawing level with the Volkswagen, Garry grits his teeth, takes a firmer hold of the wheel and inches left. He feels the jolt and hears a sickening screech of scraping metal as the vehicles connect. Holding his nerve, he edges left again, pushing the other car towards the hard shoulder. His is the bigger, more powerful vehicle. The Volkswagen is in the inside lane now, but still travelling at nearly 60 miles an hour.
Garry pulls away, accelerates hard, then steers back directly in front of the up!
crunch of contact for the last time, before braking hard and swinging away. There is nothing more he can do. The Volkswagen will hit the crash barrier, probably the bridge too. Garry hasn’t believed in God for years, but he starts to pray. The road bends, the bridge looms. The car is feet from the crash barrier.
And then a giant green stegosaurus bounces directly into the path of the red car. As the Volkswagen makes contact it acts like a huge air bag, cushioning the blow and absorbing the shock. The Volkswagen comes to a halt on the hard shoulder. Garry pulls up behind it and feels sweat break out over his body. “I guess you’d call that a pronto saurus,” he gasps.
The driver of the Volkswagen made a good recovery from his heart attack. His two grandsons, and the dog, Walter, were uninjured. On the news that night, and in subsequent Middlesbrough folklore, the inflatable dinosaur was given full credit for saving the family. Garry got a severe reprimand for causing thousands of pounds of damage to the police Range Rover and his nickname at the station became Gazzasaurus.
He never let on, but he kind of liked it.
He sees two terrified young faces gaping at him from the back seat of the Volkswagen. A third appears. A dog