Toad In A Hole

I often refer to the speed-at-all-costs petrolhead lobby as Mr. Toads, so you can imagine how I felt last weekend when I was crossing the Derbyshire Dales and came across a car which had its number plate adjusted so as to read 'TOAD', using a numeral 4 as a substitute for the letter A. It was ten yards off the road, down a bank, its bodywork firmly embedded in a dry-stone wall. The driver, mercifully unhurt, was talking to a police officer, presumably explaining how a high-quality German performance car could fly off into the ditch on a road subject to a 50 mph speed limit.
The Peak District now has speed limits on most of its main roads, backed up by fixed and mobile cameras and a visible police presence. This has come about because of the dreadful accident rate among motorcyclists who enjoy the high moorland roads with their challenging curves by pushing their bikes to, and beyond, their limits. I believe that the Yorkshire Dales have the same problem.