Let’s be honest, “huge abnormal load” sounds like a medical condition. Or something you’d find in a supermarket next to the ‘extra-large’ family pack of toilet rolls. But no, it’s usually a giant piece of industrial equipment strapped to a lorry that looks like a Transformer’s pet.
I once sat behind one for forty-five minutes. It was carrying what I swear was a concrete whale. It had a police escort, flashing lights, and a little warning sign that said “wide load.” That sign is an understatement, like calling a hurricane a “bit of a breeze.”
The best part is the anticipation. They don’t just sneak up on you. National Highways sends out alerts days in advance. It’s like a thunderstorm warning, but instead of rain, you get a mobile mountain rolling through your town at 15 miles per hour.
The Police Escort: Your New, Unwanted Tour Guide
You’ll see them coming from a mile away. A pair of police outriders on motorcycles, looking incredibly serious. They’re like the bouncers for a celebrity who doesn’t want to be seen. Except the celebrity is a 200-ton boiler on wheels. And it’s definitely seen.
Ipswich aerial images show abnormal load passing through town - BBC News
You try to overtake. You really do. But then you see the second police motorbike, and he gives you that look. You know the look. It’s the same one your dad gave you when you tried to sneak an extra cookie. You just sigh and settle in. It’s a forced, slow-moving road trip with a stranger.
“It’s only going to add 20 minutes,” your satnav chirps happily. Twenty minutes, it says. I’ve aged ten years in those twenty minutes. I’ve memorized the number plate of the lorry. I’ve named it ‘Gerald the Giant.’ Gerald and I now have a shared story of frustration.
