I can't remember the year and I can't remember the campaign. But the Exeter AA group had been collecting signatures and we had decided to get publicity by cycling the 160 miles to Downing Street on a tandem and delivering them to No. 10. Bob had agreed to cycle the last mile on the back - the 'stoker' is the technical word. We arrived around lunchtime so the traffic was heavy. What Bob didn't know was that the brakes on the tandem didn't really work. It had made the trip to London much more ennervating than we had bargained for - but that was nothing on the climax. As I turned into Westminster, I saw two busses converging, the gap diminishing by the second. I quickly realised that there was no chance of stopping before the gap closed and that the only option was to try and accelerate through while there was still space. Time slowed down. It felt like being in a film as I watched our escape corridor get smaller and smaller and smaller. I have never pushed so hard in my life. But somehow we got through. Bob seemed entirely unaware of how close we had come to perdition - and I have never previously owned up to how we very nearly squashed the Chair of the Movement under a bus.