We have been, of late, relaxing in a sleepy town called Raglan. Nestled out on the west coast of the North Island it is an ideal place to while away the time, take in some sea air and let the stresses of modern life ebb away with the evening tide.
Until tonight.
So there we were, minding our own business (which admittedly is unusual for us) idling away the time on the verandah of the Harbour View Hotel with a cold beer and reflecting on the activities of the day which, being Raglan, had involved drinking tea, eating ice cream and sleeping. You see Raglan is a place where even the sleepy go to relax. It is so laid back that the place is positively horizontal. Where was I?
Oh, yes. So there we were relaxing, when the wail of a siren could be heard in the distance. Then, a small sporty hatchback hurtled down the main street. Well, I say main street but it is only a couple of hundred metres long. But anyway, this car hurtled down the street, windows open with the arms of several young men waving enthusiastically to the static and slack-jawed onlookers. They were, several seconds later, followed by the pursuing siren and the accompanying police vehicle who were giving chase.
Now, I feel that I have to stress, if it has not already been made clear, that Raglan is not a big place. There can't be more than two roads into the town and, as it is on a peninsula, there are not a lot of other roads in between. A handful at best.
Almost as soon as the police had passed out of sight, the protagonist appeared once again and sped in front of the onlookers, or if you prefer spectators, and hurtled down the main street. Inevitably, the police followed and they both successfully completed one lap of the small town.
After the third lap, the police had clearly spotted the developing pattern and wisely decided to despatch a second police car. This should have quickly resolved the problem except now we were witnessing what seemed to be a police car being chased by a small sporty hatchback, which in turn, was being pursued by another police vehicle. Much, it had to be said, to the delight of the spectators who cheered their support for their new underdog. With each competed lap, the arms in passing car waved more furiously and the cheers grew louder.
At this point occurred to me that the police would surely be better off regrouping and simply blocking the two roads into the town? Eventually the speeding car would run out of petrol, cigarettes or, even worse, crisps?
But no. The pursuit continued. Except this time, the perpetrators had changed their tactics. Cunningly, they were now going in the opposite direction. It took the police a while to cotton onto this and for a short period of time we witnessed the strange spectacle of a police car chasing a police car around the town centre. Or at least that's how it looked.
But it was getting out of hand. The speed had increased, as had the desperation and there was a real chance that a serious accident could occur. By this time, the sporty hatchback was driving on the wrong side of the road, going the wrong way around the mini roundabout and narrowly avoiding on coming cars and strolling families out enjoying the summer evening.
It was after one such near-miss that the chase left the town and we never got to see the final scenes play out. Hopefully the police came to their senses and let the perpetrators go. Surely by now they had enough details to pursue them from a safer distance? Either that or they were too dizzy from the pursuit and needed a sit down.
Thankfully the excitement of the rest of the evening did not follow the opening act. Within minutes Raglan had returned to its sleepy state, the spectators to their beer and, as the early evening relaxed into the night, Raglan raised its arms above its head and let out a contented sigh on a day well done. You've just got to love this place.
No comments:
Post a Comment