As the controversial A9 average-speed cameras went live yesterday, Press and Journal online editor Martin Little captured a driver’s eye view of their impact on motorists’ behaviour.
My granny used to say: “It’s better to be late in this life than to be early for the next…”
Her outlook seemed very apt as I trundled along the A9 yesterday – the first day of action for the route’s controversial average-speed cameras.
Starting from Bridge of Allan, I cleared Keir Roundabout by 7.50am, and it wasn’t long before the towering yellow frame of the first camera came into view.
I passed under it with another motorist on my right.
And that was it.
I’m not sure what I was expecting – flashing lights, laser scanners, warning noises perhaps?
All I got was lashings of rain on the windscreen and the urge to turn the heater up.
‘What’s the big fuss?’, I asked myself.
But, as I was to find out, the Keir to Broxden roundabouts section is now the easy bit.
With it fully dualled, I sat at a comfortable 70mph the whole distance. Nobody speeding past, nobody blocking the way.
Without cars and vans flying along in excess of 80mph, the once treacherous junctions at Blackford, Auchterarder and Aberuthven were relatively calm.
They felt safer – just because everyone was going at a reasonable speed.
The only delays I hit between Bridge of Allan and Perth were queues coming on to Broxden Roundabout. I was at Inveralmond Roundabout by 8.30am.
Plain sailing. Or so it seemed.
I continued along the dual carriageway north of Perth and I could see a couple of heavy vehicles in the distance.
Normally I, and probably about 10 or 15 other drivers, would be putting the foot down, desperately trying to pass the slow-mo trucks in front before reaching the single carriageway at Luncarty.
But it was all very civilised. No last minute Audi, squeezing in between two lorries as four lanes became two. The average-speed cameras were doing their job.
I was now on single carriageway. And so the real A9 endurance test began.
Not long after Bankfoot I met every A9 motorist’s worst nightmare – temporary traffic lights at red with a tailback including at least three lorries and a farm vehicle.
After two rounds of lights I eventually got on my way, knowing only too well I’d encounter those heavy vehicles before long.
And so I did, lumbering along at 45mph.
Overtaking them just wasn’t an option. Even when I got a sight of clear road, going past safely would have involved accelerating up to 70mph – which, of course, would be breaking the speed limits set by those eagle-eyed cameras.
I just had to wait to get past, a situation which came back to haunt me time and time again on the journey.
When the next dual carriageway arrived, I was away. I was past those lorries and on clear road. Excellent, I thought.
But it soon became obvious driving on clear road involved a serious level of concentration.
I felt like I’d gone back to my driving test, studiously keeping an eye on the speedometer.
The A9 has straights where I could have safely risen to 70mph.
However, I knew those speed cameras wouldn’t let me. And the art of keeping the car at 60mph actually became the core focus of my journey.
As a result, against all my instincts, I was delighted to see more traffic ahead and simply let them dictate the pace.
Approaching Aviemore, and with time wearing on, it became clear that the average-speed cameras had changed one thing – my mindset.
No longer did I try to get to my destination as quickly as my car would take me, but rather as quickly as the traffic would allow me.
Coming up to the German soldier at the Slochd Summit, I noticed a white van some distance behind me.
It took me back to the last time I’d been on this stretch of road some weeks ago and a crazy white van driver had come haring past me at 90mph only to drop down infuriatingly to 55mph on the single carriageway.
In the past these manoeuvres were commonplace. And I’d seen it happen maybe once this entire journey.
The average-speed cameras were definitely making a positive impact on driver behaviour. But at the expense of so much time.
I eventually arrived in Inverness at 11.05am.
That was a two hours and 35 minutes journey. Pretty hefty, considering I used to do that stretch in about two hours on a regular basis.
Pulling into the car park at the Press and Journal’s Inverness office I knew I’d just enjoyed a safer journey north, but also just endured a lengthy drive that simply doesn’t need to take as long as it does.
Bring on the dual carriageway north of Perth.