Ballers...great find!!
Here it is, written by me 7 years ago...
Story comes about due to my hopeless addiction for watching Alty and a bit of a tight boss.
Its the Bob Lord trophy circa 93-94(?), Gateshead v Alty. Always the worst cup in the days before we knew the presidents cup etc. We are 3-1 down from the first leg and always get beat at Gateshead, basically if I had a house I would have put it on us losing again.
My boss won't let me leave until 5 o'clock, but undeterred I jump in the Maestro (B124 UNE)on me own and head off as fast as I can. Absolutely flying towards the A1, weaving like the red arrows and when on it I just put my foot to the floor. The car would do 94 if you put both feet on the accelerator although the shake from the steering wheel make your teeth knock together but on we went.
Didnt have a clue where i was going but headed for Gateshead and had an atlas and some programme directions. As I approached the town (still doing 94) I was map reading with it on my knee whilst driving (it may have been me who invented Police, camera, action and the quote of "look at this idiot map reading at 90 in a built up area"). Only slowing for speed cameras I headed for the international stadium. I arived to find the car park full due to a big event at the sports centre bit of the ground, so dumped the car in the middle of the car park and ran in. Still in messy painted up work gear I ran to the top of the steps and, as if he had been waiting for me, the ref blew the whistle and the game started. It was as bad as expected and we lost 3-1 (agg 6-2). The game seemed to last ten minutes and before I knew it I was back in the car and ready to go home again. I remember standing with Andy A both in our own cars on our own laughing at how much petrol we had used and how it might be an idea to communcate next time.
Setting off back and coming down the M62 (I think) fog started to roll in off the fields next to the motorway and I could not see a thing. I remember thinking that this is what suicidal people must feel like.
As I attempted to drive the radio was getting quieter (no FM on it, just MW/LW with big preset button on the front and only fast forward on the tape) so I kept turning it up and I was getting more and more tired. Then the lights started to dim on the dashboard and the radio went off. Now I know nothing about cars at all you see. So I carried on and really just wanted to get home and never wake up again.
Made it to Washway Road and by now everything has gone off, no dashboard lights, heater, radio nothing. I only realise by the fact that everyone is flashing me that I have done the last 60 miles without lights. So as 50 people tell me to put my lights on and I try and tell them they don't work but i'm not arsed, I plod on down Washway Road. There is a terrible knocking sound from the engine as well that i had been masking by having Atlantic 252 on very loud.
I have had to slow down so its about 1 o'clock now and I'm just trying to make it home without passing any old bill and I get as far as Barrington Road lights and just pray that there are not any coppers in sight. As I fly through the lights the first car is obviously the police. I try and belt it round the corner past the George and Dragon but before long the blue lights are flashing and he pulls me over into that little road next to the Cresta. Trying to act surprised when he said I had no lights on, I went the front of the car and scratched my head. When I opened the bonnet I realised that the fan belt had melted.
As the copper and his mate had a good laugh at the Maestro, and refused to believe it was MOT'd, I just sat there wondering whether I was officially mad. After issuing my producer, they left. I thought sod it, I'm still driving home not realising that when I turned the key there was no ignition and I was stranded. Five minutes later they came back and said I couldnt leave the car there as it was on double yellow lines!! As I lost it and said I wouldnt have been there if they hadn't stopped me they went off laughing. I kicked the car and called me Dad who reminded me I was in the RAC and asked why i had woke him up at half two when they worked 24 hours a day.
RAC took an hour, home at 4, up at seven and its one of the few times I have thought that watching City/United must be easier than this.
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Your Best Alty Story Ever...
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