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Never Mind The Trainspotters...
Question:
what do a computer wizard, a 16-year-old schoolboy, a pagan priest and
an Electric Light Orchestra fan have in common?
Answer: they are all members of Sabre.
Not
a whiff of cloak and dagger, as the name might suggest, but rather
Britain's growing body of road lovers: the Society for All British Road
Enthusiasts. For anyone who has ever been trapped on the M25 or
diverted on to the A1(M) - more on "pathetic" motorways later - it's
hard to imagine feeling anything but contempt for Britain's roads, let
alone enthusiasm.
But for Chris Marshall, a second-year radio production student at Chester College, roads represent something more.
"I
know it's strange to say 'motorway' and 'romance' in the same
sentence," he says, "but there is something of lost romance about roads
and there's a thrill in being interested in something that other people
overlook."
I am
reminded of a scene from American Beauty, where the geeky teenager
videos everything around him including a plastic bag that dances in the
wind: "There's this entire life behind things… sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I just can't take it."
Unlike
the character in the film, however, Marshall is not at all geeky. And
nor, to my surprise, are any of the other Sabristi, as they like to
call themselves, that I meet in a Stockport pub.
There
are several groups of men enjoying midweek drinks in the Arden Arms but
the Sabre members stand out a mile. Maps from various eras are strewn
on the table, there are atlases of three different kinds out and the
conversation is in full swing. Roads that lead to nowhere… the devil's
motorway (A666 M)… first-generation road signs… Britain's longest lane…
re-naming…
Around
the table are Marshall, hoping to work for a music radio station when
he graduates; Bryn Buck, aged 16 and just starting A-levels in Law,
Government and Politics, History and Media Studies; Steven Jukes, who
is in IT support at a national charity; and Tony Priest, a retired
project manager in the computer industry.
"When
people apply to join, the first thing they say is almost always, 'I
thought I was the only one!' " says Jukes, a past president of Sabre in
his early 30s. Like a lot of "techies", he has a razor-sharp mind and a
good sense of humour. "We'd be the first to admit we're completely
mad," he confesses. Luckily his wife and five-year-old daughter are
indulgent when it comes to stopping in odd places to survey the scene.
Like
many Sabre members Jukes has very little interest in cars; fewer than
half the members own one. "My father-in-law chose my car. I'm not
really sure what model it is," he says. "What I get excited about is
the history and planning that went into building roads."
His
fascination started in childhood: "When I was a kid we rarely went out
of the local area. Our annual trip to the coast was a big occasion,
something you really got over-excited about. I spent hours looking over
the maps."
The
same is true for Priest, who recalls the ritual before any big journey.
"I can remember my parents writing to the AA about three weeks before
we planned to go. They would send you a route planner with everything
mapped out and I used to love looking at it. There was a great sense of
excitement about it all."
Jukes's
speciality is "pathetic motorways": "Everyone imagines they are great
big things, but there are some really bad ones. For me, bad is good!" I
ask for an example and he is only too pleased to elaborate: "Well, what
about things that end where they shouldn't, like the M67 from Hyde to
Denton. Too narrow? The A6144(M) - it's single carriageway. Too short?
The A64(M) - sadly, only 800 yards long and that's if you go the long
way. And some were so pathetic they were never built" The list goes on.
Sabre
is primarily an internet community of road enthusiasts, although
members organise regular "away-days" every couple of months to meet up,
talk shop and go for a spin. There are about 500 people in the group,
but some of the sites linked to Sabre, which are maintained by
individual members, can receive as many as 14,000 hits in a month.
The
group is studiously non-political and claims that it's neither a
protest organisation nor a pro-road campaign group - "more a neutral
source of information". It was all started about four years ago by Brad
Jackson, a man few members have ever met in person as he is now a pagan
priest and prefers to keep out of the limelight.
It
might not come as a huge surprise that there are only a handful of
women members, one of whom is Serena, whose other great passion is the
Electric Light Orchestra (she runs the fans' website).
"Serena
has introduced a sexual element with her Mr Floppy site," laughs
Priest. Mr Floppys are motorway signs with flaccid turn-offs to the
right or left. (I'm embarrassed to say that as a result of researching
this piece, the next time I drove on the M40 I called out, "Look,
there's Mr Floppy!" and then had to cope with a five- and a
nine-year-old demanding to know what I meant.)
There
is a member who is a research fellow at Oxford University and whose
doctoral thesis is on roads. He regularly posts valuable archive
material on the site that isn't available elsewhere.
A
member linked to the Institute of Engineering is also involved in a
website with unique archives (with the local government re-organisation
of 1965/66 many papers relating to motorways were either lost or
misplaced). Another member was involved in building the Preston bypass
(the first section of what is now the M6) from 1956-1957.
At
16, Bryn Buck is one of the younger Sabristi. He claims to like clothes
and computer games as much as anyone his age but, unlike his
contemporaries, most of his money goes on maps. "Last week I found this
really good place in Eccleston. It was great, they had so much stuff. I
don't want to say where it was because I want to go back for more. I
went a bit mad and ended up spending £70."
Buck's
two uncles were lorry drivers and he recalls that the talk at home was
often about roads. "I liked roads so much that when we did our Cycling
Proficiency Test in Year Six the school asked me to chalk out the
course on the tarmac." Despite starting A-levels he still spends a few
hours each week maintaining his site about Lancashire roads, which is
linked to the Sabre site.
At
the other end of the spectrum there's Priest, who stumbled on the Sabre
website 18 months ago. Unlike many other Sabristi, he loves cars and
teaches advanced driving now that he's retired from the computer
business. "I regard driving as a form of art," he says. He also has a
photographic mind and knows all sorts of details about national speed
limits, road signs and tunnel lengths that would easily get him a place
on Mastermind.
Becoming
a Sabre member has introduced him to a wide variety of people at a time
in life when others might find it hard to make new friends. "I've yet
to meet a Sabristo I didn't like," he says. "It's a wonderful bunch of
lovely eccentrics."
By
now we are getting on pretty well, and I feel I can risk asking the
obvious question: "Isn't this all a bit like trainspotting?" Everyone
laughs. "Of course we're mad," says Marshall. "But it's not at all like
trainspotting. We're interested in all the effort that goes into making
roads. The railways in this country get an awful lot of press as great
engineering achievements. Roads aren't seen in that way, but it wasn't
always so. In the 1950s and 1960s they were part of a brave new era.
Back then it was something to get excited about. They actually put
people on buses and drove up and down them to have a look..."
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