I gripped the seat and the door handle for my life, and sat rigid in the passenger seat of the ambulance. My crewmate, nonchalant, yet transfixed in their psycotic driving, was hammering it on blue lights – tearing through the city streets, bareley putting in any thought of using the brake pedal. Cars swerved off the road, quickly mounted curbs, almost ploughed into one another – anything to get out of the way of our speeding ambulance screaming it on blues and twos.

My crewmate was taking no prisoners. It was their way, or . . . well, it was their way. That is all.

I have never been so terrified about someone driving on blue lights before. But the problem was – we weren’t going to a job. No one was ill – that we knew of anyway. We were simply heading back to station at end of shift. My crewmate, being the “old-school” type, simply wanted to get off on time. And by quickly, it meant blue lights on, get the fuck out of my way.