October 17, 2021
Trafffic, traffic, traffic…sigh. Must everyone move about at the same hour, using up our limited resources? All I wanted was to get to Starbucks for my tea and bagel and writing. What a crowd on the road! We should do this relocating of our persons at allocated times. That’s how they handle vacation overcrowding in the Netherlands. Half the country goes off in early summer, the other half in late summer. Some of us are up and out early, some later so let’s restrict ourselves. We will draw lots or straws or something. We can do odd and even Social Insurance numbers. That is the way to progress. If we keep on the path we are on, it will soon be impossible to move about. There is, of course, the possibility that economics, heading into the end days of earth, will make our choice for us. We might well be kept home by high costs and dwindling supplies.
High costs are making big changes in transport. The more fuel costs, the more insurance costs, the more licensing costs…the wilder the so-called alternative vehicles on the roads. Each day, things turn more in the direction of a Mad-Max scene. Add to that the social mood of anger, frustration and rebelliousness and you get a wild mix out there on the fair boulevards. It’s hard to predict what you will find on your way. Today’s assortment of oddities included bicycles of wild design, electric two-wheelers of limited speed, stuck together pieces of whatever from wherever and a high-handlebar affair that appeared very hard to steer safely.
With the wild mix of vehicles comes a wild mix of ideas for traffic safety, a wild and broad interpretation of traffic rules. You might just as well admit defeat and keep your head (while driving your vehicle of choice) spinning about in a defensive attempt at observation of road conditions with an eye for self-preservation. The general mayhem is approaching what the streets of India look like on National Geographic tours. When the drones are set free, I pity us.
Yesterday, or the day before (it blurs a bit) a young-ish woman with long, beautiful brown hair and a non-descript bike cut me off. She was so casual and deliberate about her error that it astounded me. I was traveling southbound in a standard automobile of recent vintage, she was on her bike and traveling at right angles to me. She had a stop sign, I did not. This meant that I had the right-of-way, she did not. She looked at me as I approached, she saw me, I saw her. I was traveling more than the posted limit of 40 kmh (as we each and all do, don’t we?). When I got close to her, she calmly kept her moderate pace and sailed right past a bright red hexagonal stop indicator, exactly into my path. I had to hit the brakes to avoid her. She smirked at me and drove off in an unhurried, relaxed manner. It was such a casual and aggressive rudeness that I was dumbfounded. Suppose I had been texting?
We all have these stories to tell; stories of the fellow on his powered mobility cart who simply turned left in front of you, never looking left or right, the older gentleman who wore a neck brace and dragged himself along by pulling his wheelchair with his feet IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAFFIC LANE, a bicycle coming out of the fog, southbound in our northbound lane, the tattered, elderly contraption that spewed smoke and spare parts as it lurched along…and… the usual collection of farm machinery, busses, transport trucks. Wild. Mad Maximum. I blame the money.
We do have the approaching future high cost of transport to complain about. It’s frightening. In the end, I suppose I shouldn’t worry much about Mad Max when the benzina is over $1.40 a litre should I? Ha ha. What else are people going to do? I will be maybe walking soon, too. Perhaps, I could construct an unusual and affordable fuel vehicle of my own? I have a couple of garbage cans and an extra recycle box. With a bit of string, I could make myself a quite comfortable example of rolling stock. It might be noisy as heck, rolling the cans along the pavement. What a roar that could be! Likely, I will be walking, although, by my powers of deduction, there is no doubt that walking could be dangerous in this environment. I see the occasional, timid pedestrian hidden in the crowd of jaywalking ‘sashayers”.
Oh yeah, the sidewalk is a dangerous, Maxian place also. The words ‘excuse me’ have been lost in the noise and confusion of our modern, digital age. No bicycle bells drrrrinnnnng out a warning anymore. I witness the near-trampling of the meek on a daily basis. If tail-gating bothers when you are ensconced within the bounds of a steel vehicle, can you imagine someone ‘drafting’ you by walking very close behind to reduce the wind drag on their own person? Yikes! Look out!
Fortunately, in all of this change, in all of this reconfiguration of sidewalk and road traffic, in all of this unsettled grimace we are living through, we have the HORN! The horn. Ah, that age-old curve shaped musical instrument, intended for communication. I am sure I read that initially, the horn was ripped off the skull of a murdered beast and sounded as an invitation to a meal of fresh beast flesh or a celebration of victory. That must be what it was. The horn was designed for glory. Oh, I am sure the horn was not intended as an urgent, impatient prod or a negative feedback instrument. No, no.
Myself, whilst I am about on my four wheels, I hear the horn often and wish to use my own, similarly. A shake of the fist is only modestly effective and only as a personal relief. “The fist shake prevents a kill,” I always say. I did have an interesting idea that should be put into development. How about a horn that sounds out loudly when the button is pressed, with, “ASS-HOLE!” That only requires technology for two loud sounds, perhaps a whole step apart? ASS hole! I will get right to work on the drafting-to-concept. Cheers.
Robert On The Air 