I live just off a 13-mile stretch of twisting, hilly, unfenced, single-track road, with passing places, some of them official ones with triangular markers and tarmac. This makes for slow travelling – though nothing like as slow as 30 years ago when there were 13 gates on this stretch, each of which had to be opened and closed again. But it also makes for neighbourliness; you cannot whizz by in a hurry. At the very least you have to make eye contact and usually roll the windows down for a passing chat. Locally, we have, of course, codified behaviour to some extent: articulated vehicles (especially trailers carrying stock) do not reverse; 4x4s pull off the road if there’s a choice; the person with the passing place on their left pulls into it; if the ground alongside is particul