Let’s be safe, but also sensible, too

RIGHT outside the VicRoads Customer Service Centre in Fyans St is a roundabout on a railway line.

I can’t think of anything more confusing than that.

Multiple signals and boom gates, nine on and off ramps, pedestrian footpaths criss-crossing like a traffic driving school.

It’s a wonder the trains don’t jump the rails in sympathy and end up at the showgrounds.

I approach this intersection with utmost caution, not only because it is a mental challenge, but also because it is the first thing a learner driver sees going for their P-plates.

They really should get their licence on the spot for surviving that.

If the driving instructor wants another test, take the now shaken prisoner to the intersection of Surf Coast Highway and the perfectly named Merrijig Drive.

Let me describe this little gem, which is the pipeline to Bunnings and on the exact corner where Australia’s most progressive municipality, Surf Coast Shire, can be found hand-wringing beneath its own wind farm on a roof.

Merrijig Drive is more like a creek than a river, a dual lane suburban street until it reaches the highway.

Then it turns into a theme park. The destination is Bunnings, where hard hats are sold, but you need one to get there.

That’s because the treacherous crossing of the Surf Coast Highway is like the Big Dipper, a sudden rollercoaster across a pregnant belly of bitumen.

Drive a bit too quickly and heads crack the roof of the car. Am I kidding? Nup.

There’s a dip, then there’s the mound from hell, then another dip and projectile vomit bags capturing the thrill of making it to the other side.

I’m certain this trip has saved marriages, spicing up otherwise mundane lives consisting of surfing, sunbathing and dining out on The Esplanade.

But, for me, it is a dark force that wants my car to become airborne.

Merrijig has another dance move up its sleeve as it splinters into three exit lanes and one deceptive incoming lane from the highway.

Sauntering along from Torquay, Merrijig winks slyly and almost invites a quick right turn into oncoming traffic because three lanes just feels like one too many.

That one on the left must be mine.

Um. No.

That would be the last tango for sure (and I have had a couple of goes at this).

The required move is a graceful, gentle arc, much like a Tom Hawkins banana kick that goes true for three lanes then quickly chops at a right angle.

Hence this local driving quirk has been dubbed “Doing the Tomahawk”.

Finally, those who take “the back way” to Torquay and hit the famous Horseshoe Bend Rd are now greeted with flashing lights and 30km/h speed signs.

Have you tried to drive at 30km/h?

Do you know how slow that is? I did it to prove a point to myself.

I braved the Merrijig rollercoaster, hung a right at Blackgate Rd, then a left on to Horseshoe Bend Rd and slowed to 30.

There was no breeze in my hair. I put on my indicator and overtook a tortoise.

Bees mated and died as I navigated this horrific stretch.

I drank from my flask to prevent dehydration, applied sunscreen to my face.

The last yellow sign slipped into my rear-vision mirror and I became a statistic, another life saved courtesy of an abundance of caution.

I’m not saying that this bend shouldn’t be taken slowly.

But how slow?

So slow that no one will do it? To get to the root cause of a problem, the Toyota Motor Company developed a method called the Five Ys, asking questions much like a three-year-old might.

This is why children learn so quickly, because they never stop asking why.

They are relentless.

And they don’t stop at five questions.

They keep going, as we all should.

Maybe we need a few toddlers asking questions to make our roads not only safer, but sensible.

THERE’S A DIP, THEN THERE’S THE MOUND FROM HELL, THEN ANOTHER DIP AND PROJECTILE VOMIT BAGS CAPTURING THE THRILL OF MAKING IT TO THE OTHER SIDE