WANT TO BE REHABILITATED?

If you are ever caught doing motorcycle bastardry on the road, your lawyer may direct you to attend a ‘program’.

The idea is that when you appear before a magistrate with your licence in tatters, the fact that you have done a ‘program’ may influence the magistrate to show you leniency.

I recently attended one such program at the behest of my lawyer, and I came away with several impressions which may be of interest to my fellow motorcyclists.

In NSW there are several such ‘programs’. I will not refer to them by name because my lawyer said I shouldn’t and I always do what my lawyer tells me to do. But you can look them up on the Internet. They are all much of a muchness.

And they will cost you money and time. And you will cry inside like a brutalised animal. But that’s what you get for committing atrocities against the Motor Traffic Act.

My atrocity was doing 144 in a 100 zone on a deserted country road. Guilty as charged.

My lawyer felt if I did a ‘program’, it would assist my defence when I presented myself to the court to ask that the mandatory three-month suspension be reduced.

“Magistrates love the program,” she said.

“Then I shall do the program,” I declared.

I went on-line to register myself for the course.

It’s a one-day deal. It costs $165 which the website told me has to be paid up front, is not refundable and no cash will be accepted on the day.

I paid and on the Saturday in question presented myself at 8am at a western Sydney RSL club where the ‘program’ would be held.

So did every conceivable kind of type-cast scumbag. Crazy Lebs, crazier Asians, and the craziest bogans you’ve ever seen. I was the sole representative of the crazy bikie clan.

Once inside, a well-fed lady asked us to fill out a form, and if we hadn’t yet paid, to do so. She indicated the location of a Handy Teller. So much for ‘no cash accepted on the day’, I thought.

Then we entered a room full of chairs and it began.

My mind has sought to purge the day from my memory like a childhood molestation by a favourite uncle.

I have fought the purge, but only so that I may raise awareness, which is the right thing to do.

Now remember, these courses are sold to punters as a form of ‘rehabilitation’. In other words, what I paid for was meant to somehow re-program me and set me upon the path of righteousness for safety’s sake.

Of course, no-one in that room wanted to be there. Most of them (about 80 per cent) were there on DUI charges.

We were all compelled to be there by lawyers – well, except for one inchoate swine. This degenerate was there because his attendance completed him as a person and he relentlessly engaged every speaker with stupid questions. I was hoping the Leb behind him would cut him, but it was not to be. So I made plans to beat him like a dog at the end of the day in the carpark across the road, but he disappeared very quickly. There was no end to my disappointments that day…

FIRST SESSION – THE AMBO

She was cute. She told us to disregard the accepted paradigm about not moving accident victims, and to create an airway no matter what. Broken spines be buggered. Initiate chest compressions because when the ambos arrive and you’re not making an effort to revive the corpse, then they will pronounce it dead. She then showed us some old Internet videos of people being run over. She also perpetuated the lie about how the road toll is going up, even when official figures indicate it’s going down.

MY REHABILITATION: Zero. Just know that if I come upon you lying by the side of the road I will create an airway for you. Even if I have to use my penknife to cut some gills into your neck and powder your spine in the process.

SECOND SESSION – THE DRIVING INSTRUCTOR

What an all-encompassing, condescending dick. He hated everyone in that room and our Smartphones. He informed us a red light means stop, an amber light means stop and a green light also means stop. He then declared the national speed limit is 50km/h. I got the impression he felt he was the only person on this earth fit to be on the road, and the sooner we were all jailed the better. He also lied about the road toll going up.

MY REHABILITION: Less than zero. I resolved to ride with even more aggression in the hope he would see me and his brain would explode.

THIRD SESSION – THE INSURANCE BLOKE

Nice bloke. Like a teddy bear. Probably gives great cuddles. My brain was bleeding five minutes after he started talking. He spoke about the three kinds of insurance available to drivers. He spoke about it over and over and over. Then he showed us some pictures he found on the Internet of car accidents. While he was doing that, he spoke about the three kinds of insurance available to drivers. Then he spoke about that again. Then something burst in my head.

MY REHABILITION: Nothing. Everything I already knew about insurance was simply repeated to me for an hour.

FOURTH SESSION – THE LAWYER

Clearly, he was the only speaker being paid to be here. I think he would have defended pro bono anyone who murdered that chattering knob-sore I mentioned earlier. He put up a series of slides highlighting the penalties for serious first and second offences and told us how many of his clients had been forced to emigrate after losing their licenses for a billion years.

MY REHABILITION: Nada. I already knew what dire medieval punishments awaited me.

FIFTH SESSION – THE DRUG & ALCOHOL EXPERT

Her qualifications? She was a prison screw in New Zealand and she worked in a mortuary. What she didn’t know about drugs was vast, but did that stop her from holding forth? Hell no. She showed us Internet photos of drug addicts. She told us if we smoke dope and intend to stop at Point A (a chair), we would actually stop at Point B (another chair five feet away from the first chair). “It is what it is,” she said over and over. She told us methamphetamine was the scourge of humanity, but did not comment on how it impaired your abilities; possibly because the world’s fighter pilots are all whacked on speed, so it would be difficult to run with the impairment thing.

MY REHABILITION: Another zero. One is not permitted to drive with point-oh-five alcohols in one’s system, which I knew. There is no known number of cannabises you’re not permitted to have, or speeds, or pingers (they only test for THC, speed and MDMA), and the legislation only speaks to the presence of drugs in your system, and not if they impair your ability to ride.

SIXTH SESSION – THE VICTIM

A young bloke injured as a child passenger in a car, now attends these programs and tells everyone how he fought his way back from brain-injury. Good on him. I could have done without the playing of a terrible country-and-western ballad, but hey, if the brain-injured bloke wants to play music, I say let him play music.

PERSONAL REHABILITION IMPACT: Nothing. I empathised, being somewhat crippled up myself, and applauded his struggle to regain some semblance of normality in his life. Was I rehabilitated by his story? No.

SUMMATION

So did rehab work? No. How could it?

There was no rehabilitative aspect to it whatsoever.
We filled out a booklet during the course – the answers to all the questions were provided, and it was stressed we were to pay special attention to the last page, where we were to write how the program had affected us. This is the bit the magistrate’s tend to look at.

Does it affect the magistrate’s decision? Hard to say. In my case, the magistrate certainly read my brilliant one-page dissertation on how the program impacted on my future behaviour. In my friend’s case (he went down for doing 150-something in an 80 zone), the magistrate didn’t even look at it.

I got a month knocked off the three-month suspension, so I view that as a win.

But every magistrate is different. Everyone’s driving record (this plays a big part) is different, and everyone actual personal circumstances vary greatly.

Is it worth doing? Well, I’m of the view that having sex with sheep is worth doing if it will help the court go easy on you.

You make your own decisions.

I’m just raising awareness.

 

Words by Boris Mihailovic

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