Alas, there is no video, but we have something better: farmer Tom Hamilton's wonderful narrative of how border collie Don took off in the vehicle.
There were no more than 150 yards to the motorway, and the gap was closing fast. I’m pretty fit for a 77-year-old, but even before I tripped I knew I stood no chance of catching up. I fell heavily, winding myself, and was still picking myself up as the Gator crashed through a wooden fence and plunged out of view. The last thing I saw before it disappeared was Don’s face, gazing benignly back at me.
Beyond the fence was a steep, 30ft bank, and at the bottom of that the northbound carriageway of the M74, teeming with rush-hour commuters. I could hear the roar of the traffic. I listened for the sound of an impact or of screeching brakes as I dashed towards the fence, but none came.
