There's a Far Side cartoon where 'Ted' reaches for a switch which, unbeknownst to him, causes the wings of the plane to fall off. Fergus now knows how Ted felt. Except for the splatty bit at the end, thankfully. That sensation will have to wait.
There we were. Driving along the M1. Southbound. Somewhere between Birmingham and London. It's a dull drive. It was dull weather. It was either raining or about to start raining. Road conditions were not at their best. It was, to be fair, slug-ugly weather for driving.
I was bored. Jonathan was, by this time, bored. The novelty of being in the car long since worn off. Kate was either bored, or stressed by the fact that Jonathan was bored and trying to exit the moving vehicle. He does that, often. I wasn't paying attention to anything but the road. I wasn't paying attention to Fergus, who was riding up front with me. And was bored.
The new kind of modern, fangled automobile doesn't have an old-fashioned hand-brake. I like the old style hand-brake. It is pleasing to pull on, and off. There's satisfaction there. I can see advantages to a hand-brake powered by a switch. But only to someone enfeebled in some way. Or with no left hand. I disgress.
So Fergus was bored. The hand-brake switch was within reach. It wasn't exactly clear to him what it was, so he experiemented.
Remarkably it didn't end horribly. There was a bit of grinding, and a beep of complaint from the dashboard, and some cussing from me, but nothing that will leave any mark.
Thank goodness for that.