Speed leads to sticky situations

Columnist Andrew Gale on the dangers of speeding

ON THE JOB: Andrew Gale "arresting” country rock group The Wolverines at the Dirt and Dust festival during his time as a cop at Julia Creek. Picture: Contributed

I WORKED at Julia Creek police station at the turn of the century. 2001 to 2003.

Gee, how old do you think I am?

It is a dry and dusty place, which I actually gave thanks for, believe it or not.

Because when it rains there, the black soil turns into a sticky, slimy goop resembling sticky, dirty grease.

You know the stuff, we have plenty around here too.

Apart from that, there is a bull ride, rodeo, campdraft, or race meeting or triathlon, every weekend to keep the locals and tourists entertained and on the drink till the wee hours. And didn't they like to drink.

Every weekend I'd be up till the wee hours making sure people got home safely and not too many laws were broken.

The other thing that kept me busy was at Julia Creek were traffic accidents. Normally single-vehicle and at high speed. The sort of accidents that are commonplace on long, straight highways.

The driver loses concentration and they wander off the edge of the road. When they realise this they tend to yank the wheel to get back on the road and the car gets "out of shape” before yawing and rolling.

Depending on how hard they land after flipping and where on the roof they hit is generally the difference between walking away and being killed. Not many in between.

Julia Creek is on the Flinders Highway. About 700km inland from Townsville and 400km from the Northern Territory border. A local told me, it's not quite in the middle of nowhere, but you could see it from there.

One day, one of those prangs happened.

Thankfully, a minor injury accident only. I went to see the victims at the local hospital. I found two young men, Korean tourists. Shaken but not injured.

The police station was just across from the hospital so I managed to communicate to them I wanted them to come with me so we could do some paperwork.

It was only when we got to the station and I settled down in front of the computer that I realised that these poor guys were absolutely shaking in their boots.

I don't know what the coppers get up to in Korea or if these guys thought they'd been dragged north of the DMZ. Their faces were pure fear.

It didn't seem to matter what I said to them, nothing could calm them down. I tried to communicate as best as I could that everything was cool.

I even dragged my wife into the station in the hope that her pleasant and homely looks would calm them. No, didn't work. One actually started crying when I asked for his driver's licence, which he duly produced.

This situation was getting nowhere. It had been a long day for everyone.

It was hot (it was always hot). I had a eureka moment when I spied the bar fridge in the corner.

I knew it contained some of my favourite beverage. It's made in Milton. It speaks all languages.

You know the stuff. It's also not a method mentioned in the chapter about taking statements in the police manual. Sometimes you have to use initiative.

Thirty seconds later, my newfound Korean buddies were sipping on a stubby with big smiles on their relieved faces. Twenty minutes later, they were taking happy snaps with police hats and various police accoutrements attached to themselves. I think we ended up at the "top-pub” or Gannon's for a few more.

What I always remember is the statement of the driver. I typed it into the computer verbatim.

Now if you've had a prang, you'll know what I'm talking about.

These can be a few pages - how, what, when, where - proceeding in this direction and so on. Not this one.

"Driving, driving, driving. Screeetch. Bang. Crash. Car turn over.”

Originally published as Speed leads to sticky situations