So my article today is about the journey in a car and a conversation with my brother on a 24 minute trip I had recently and how it turned into a conversation about juries, politics, human rights and messing about in boats.
It started off with me getting in his car to go to pick up my wounded little Hyundai Getz who had now been healed with a new clutch and master cylinder.
It was 7.30 am.
Hot. Humid.
Typical Queensland weather for this time of year but not like previous years. Hot and humid, but not the wilting oppressive kind.
It is still OK. So much for global warming.
The conversation started because he has one of those windswept and select backing cameras and all sorts of bells and whistles in his 4 wheel drive. I commented that my little Getz was like an old fashioned telephone. It rang when someone called and it would dial a number when someone dialed. I suggested that modern cars may offer more solutions, but they become more complex as they do so and long gone are the days when you could actually fix your own car.
Not like when we were younger and could sort things out because of our basic mechanical knowledge. Now, we need an expert to diagnose the problem and then do an organ transplant and a very expensive operation to do something that we whipped up over a few beers and a bit of " Donovan " or "The Small Faces " playing in the background on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
This led to the subject of jury service. How we increasingly defer to experts to tell us what to do, when to do it and, by and large, we do as they advise and all turns out well. After all, they have moved on beyond the dreamy days of Uncle " Pete " who we called upon to sort out our failing gearboxes, slave cylinders, buggered motors and even more buggered wallets.
No, Uncle Pete is now consigned into the out of date and past expiry date section of the supermarket and we now RELY on experts.
To be fair, without experts we are unable to draw on their knowledge and then make a decision. My expert at my local Ultratune had told me that my little Getz had a failing clutch and a failing master cylinder.
All I knew was that when I used the clutch it felt " spongy " and slow to react. My expert gave the diagnosis and I was off to pick her up after her " surgery. "
I fear that Uncle Pete would not have been able to assist me this time around, all these decades later.
By the time we had travelled a few kilometres, our conversation had moved on to jury service: how can a jury arrive at a conclusion without experts with whom they can consult?
After all, one of the most serious duties we are ever asked to perform is to sit on a jury and the decision on a man's guilt or innocence is rather more important than the fate of a little Hyundai Getz?.
We have all heard of the old saying " Far better to be judged by 12 than carried by 6. " and that is certainly still holding true after so many years.
In fact the jury system has been part of our judicial system for over 1000 years. As an aside, the oldest parliament in the world is the Isle of Man and my Manx Dad was always proud of that, as am I.
While the jury system has changed over time ( selection of women, people from all creeds and ethnic backgrounds and so on ) the fundamentals have stayed the same. The concept that 12 people listen to the evidence both for and against, and make a determination based on their perception of the facts.
A judge, well schooled and skilled in matters legal, gives guidance and interpretations of law and the 12 people sit down and nut out the outcome based on one simple and irrefutable thing: that all people are innocent until proven guilty.
The 12 people are drawn from all sorts of backgrounds. A jury can be made up of a farmer, a nurse, an IT specialist, a teacher and a truckie. A randomly selected cross section of people tasked with doing their civic duty and deciding, based on evidence, whether the accused is guilty BEYOND REASONABLE DOUBT.
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Jurors are not paid. They are provided with an allowance and given food and shelter. No one gets rich from jury duty.
I have been selected several times in my life but knocked back from serving because I was married to a police officer and had relatives who had served as police officers so I was deemed to be potentially biased.
I am not eligible, but that is fair.
And that is why I love the jury system.
No one has skin in the game.
It got me thinking, as I said to my brother, imagine if, instead of having elected representatives in our parliaments, we had randomly selected people who had to serve one year in government on behalf of their constituency.
Just imagine.
They got paid sufficient to pay their bills and maintain their lives, but they would only receive a paycheque at the end if they managed to return the government in the same ( or better ) state that they inherited.
If they had " skin in the game " they would be disqualified.
It took me back to a time back in the early 1980's when I ran a holiday complex on a Queensland river.
Every winter, I had an old bloke from rural Queensland come and stay, with his wife, and he would indulge in 2 weeks fishing. He would hire what we knew as a putt putt boat and moor it at the pontoon. Each morning and afternoon, he would putt putt up or down the river and go fishing. He was a fairly ordinary chap.
I could not find a putt butt photo but this will have to do
I think he may have been a boilermaker or some other hard grafting tradie. He was not university educated and he was certainly not a man of means.
But he loved his fishing.
One year, a retired surgeon booked a unit in the complex and the two men got to chatting on the pontoon and shared their loved of all things fish related. The old tradie invited the surgeon out for an early morning fish.
It was straight out of " The Castle " ( but before " The Castle " was made ) and it was magical to watch. They talked about their favourite bait, their preferred line etc and over a period of days, weeks and eventually years, they rebooked every year and spent 2 weeks happily messing about in boats.
Between the two of them, they headed off onto the river and no doubt solved all manner of problems while they passed the time of day and shared their common love. Fishing.
My chauffeur, my brother, and I were chatting about this and about that. How bossy Redhead is and what good scones she makes ( nah, we didn't talk about that but it makes a good story ) and I suggested that perhaps we needed a jury system for our government instead of these fat cats that seem to enter parliament to do nothing, sit on the fence and keep getting re elected until they can resign on fat life long pensions.
Imagine I said ( as we lurched into the next roundabout at a NSW level of acceleration instead of a sedate Queensland " no worries mate, do what you want to do " - he is a rather more enthusiastic driver than I am ) just imagine if we had people randomly selected to be our representatives. Much like jury service?
As we powered through the traffic at the Coolum roundabout and weaved our way to our destination ( which held my little gentle and rather patient little Hyundai Getz ) we talked about how that could work out.
We considered how a boilermaker and a surgeon could serve side by side. How a nurse could serve beside a cleaner and a welfare recipient could serve beside a real estate mogul.
We then both laughed " imagine if Redhead was in government? "
The thought was rather amusing until we realised that she is probably exactly what we need. Imagine, I suggested, that Redhead was counterbalanced by the lady who was a psychologist and believed in abortion at birth? Now that would make for an interesting parliament question time.
By the time we reached our destination we both agreed that representation from normal people was preferable to the mess we have now.
How could it be worse?
For myself, I would prefer a few fishermen, rev heads and cautious granny drivers like me than the mob of self centred money hungry egomaniacs we currently have.
By the time we arrived at Ultratune, 24 minutes later, we had skinned rabbits, had fun on a lazy Sunday afternoon ( figuratively, not literally ), and been transported back to the times of King John.
I picked up my little car by the way and she is zipping around like a little rocket ship. My brother even washed her and cleaned her and vacuumed her. She is back from the beauty parlour and looking good Billy Ray.
I asked the mechanic what the master cylinder and the clutch did ( manual car or for my many American readers a stick shift ) and he explained that the clutch just cannot do its job on time if the master cylinder is not working properly.
It is amazing what a new master cylinder can do. Let's face it - without the master cylinder, the clutch is buggered.
I got a new clutch and a new master cylinder.
It is a shame we cannot do that with our governments.
Because they simply do not engage anymore and they sure as hell do not keep the pressure up unless it is against engaging gear and making sure that we grind to a halt at every roundabout.
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