What
heady days we live in! High on most people's list of extraordinary recent events
will be the much-talked-about fuel crisis (or fool crisis, according to green-minded
wags), provoked by a bunch of angry farmers and road hauliers, and apparently
supported -- in spirit at least -- by the majority of ordinary folk."Crisis? What crisis?" says the Mole. One's bicycle functioned as normal, one's trains ran on time (surprisingly), and one's local shops continued to serve regular (i.e., car-free) customers, long after the hoards of starving Volvo owners, whipped into a frenzy by a hysterical media, had stripped the shelves bare. Of course, 'fuel crisis' was a bit of a misnomer, as electricity and gas supplies remained unaffected. It was really a motoring crisis, dressed up to look like national Armageddon by a disaster-hungry media.
This little local difficulty brought many benefits in its wake: primarily clean air and a little extra safety for the cyclists, youngsters and assorted mammals forced to run the gauntlet of our roads on a daily basis.
Oh joy, oh bliss! The roads were quieter than they have been for many years, with the few remaining cars driving courteously and slowly in order to conserve fuel. For those who rediscovered rusting bicycles in the nether regions of dark sheds, it proved to be a mercifully gentle introduction to Millennial cycling.
For some, though, the effort of cycling a few miles proved too much. One particularly stark image was of the many ordinary folk interviewed on the national news, one of whom declared: "Yesterday, things were so bad I had to cycle!", a statement that no doubt elucidated waves of shocked sympathy from living rooms across the land.
Many others looked in the back shed and discovered (a) that the bicycle had actually rusted away, or (b) they had never owned a bicycle in the first place. Consequently, many set out in panic-buying mode to their nearest bicycle shop, in a desperate search for fuel-free transport. For some, the next port of call was A to B magazine, resulting in some unusual exchanges, of which the following is typical:
Former motorist: "I bought a bicycle this morning, but it's proving harder work than I expected. Can you buy electric ones?"
A to B: "Yes, but they're limited to 15mph..."
Former motorist: "Can you tune them?"
And so on. Of the many calls in the days that followed, it seems most were trying to purchase an electric bike: "The most powerful in the shop, please."
Others inexplicably rang A to B to ask what the magazine was doing to solve the crisis. One is prepared to offer advice to the public on alternative transport -- given that the government is unable or unwilling to do the same -- but one draws the line at sorting out national crises.
The real problem was the ordinary motorists; far too many of them, using far too much fuel and so over-reliant on their cars that panic set in. The situation was made worse by a government that came over as high-handed and remote, and oil companies that inexplicably put a few pence on the price of petrol as the barricades came down. Then took it off again. If proof were needed that government concessions will do little more than line industry pockets, here it was, writ large.
The railways had a Good War, although they could have made better use of the public relations coup that fell into their laps. Most rail services are diesel fuelled, but very few are supplied by road tanker (and those that are shouldn't be), so supplies could theoretically have lasted indefinitely. The only real disaster befell accident-prone Connex, which inexplicably banned all bicycles at the height of the crisis. As the thing had more or less blown over in a couple of days, this shouldn't have been a problem, but Connex neglected to tell their staff when the all-clear had sounded. Thus an innocent commuter was refused access to an empty guard's van a week later at Croydon. "Bollocks", he replied, summing up the national mood rather neatly.
For once, the Cyclists Touring Club took the initiative, spewing out some pithy press-releases throughout the crisis. Not surprisingly, the CTC suggested taking advantage of the empty roads and getting on your bike, something that Britons were desperately trying to do already. When the Tories took up the populist banner a few days later, pledging a £1.1bn cut in fuel duty (should they ever return to power), the CTC put their collective heads over the parapet, bless 'em, and let forth with the big guns. £1.1 billion, said the UK's premier cycling organisation, would buy a world-class cycle network for every town and ten bike spaces on every train, with enough left over to pay for cycle proficiency training for everyone. Within a year, 20 million citizens would be cycling to work... end of problem. Excellent stuff.
Caught up in the crisis was A to B's 'life beyond cars' master plan; namely a summerhouse and lawn in place of a musty old garage and drive. With a number of fence panels, posts and most crucially, 12 foot boards still to arrive, the fuel shortage looked set to delay the project. Not so, as the whole lot was carried home aboard a bike trailer behind an everyday Brompton. What crisis, indeed!
On a limb, as usual, the Mole suggests fuel taxes should not fall by a single penny. Indeed, a modest rise would do no harm. Our economy is perfectly capable of adjusting, as are the hauliers, reps and others making a living from burning the stuff. The oil price is guaranteed to rise in the future, so the country that has got a bit of practice in advance will be well prepared. In the meantime, the taxes provide a nice bonus for the Health Service and other essential services, and a welcome tax break for the car-free.