Traffic congestion is slowly creating an angry city

ITHOUGHT it was my imagination and that I was merely becoming a doddery old fart unable to cope with city traffic any more, but I was relieved to receive two emails within days of each other from Tavern readers disgusted at the present state of Cape Town’s traffic congestion. “Is it my imagination,” wrote Carol, “or has the traffic in Cape Town quadrupled in the two years I’ve been away?”

I don’t think it is her imagination. The traffic has become a nightmare. There are hardly any smooth-flowing routes left.

I have travelled from my home in Fish Hoek to Nederburg in Paarl at least once a year for many years. Until recently I’ve allowed an hour for the journey and have always arrived a few minutes before the event has started. I like to be punctual.

Last week I had to attend another event at Nederburg and allowed myself an extra quarter of an hour because it was a pleasant day and I wanted to relax and enjoy the coastal drive.

Halfway along the Baden Powell Drive the traffic ground to a complete halt and hundreds of motorists sat glumly waiting for the blockage to be cleared. Nobody seemed to know what sort of blockage it was. After a long wait, one after another of the cars started turning around and heading back toward Muizenberg. When my patience ran out I did the same and decided to travel across the Cape Flats to reach the N1. Bad decision! Somewhere in the heart of industrial Cape Town the traffic once again slowed to a halt. Again, hundreds of cars and heavy vehicles stood idling. Some drivers got out and tried to see what was holding up the stream. Nothing was. It was simply too much traffic for the road. Gridlock.

I phoned the organiser of the event and explained I was held up by traffic and would be late.

She replied glumly that two of the other guests had already called in to say they were stuck in different traffic jams.

It finally took me a little over two hours to travel the distance, and by the time I arrived I had covered more than 120km instead of the 60km the journey usually takes.

I had used almost half a tank of petrol to get from home to Paarl, as I had spent an extra hour with my car’s engine running while I went nowhere.

Multiply that by several thousand and we’re wasting billions of rands daily on fuel, not to mention hundred of thousands of wasted man-hours in idling vehicles.

I suppose most of the commuters who have to suffer the daily traffic horror arrive at work cross and resentful.

It’s more than just a matter of slow traffic. It’s creating an angry city.

It’s amazing that some people still manage a smile for their customers after the tribulations of traffic.

Capetonians must be very forgiving folk.

Last Laugh

A teenage boy was completely crazy about cricket. He seemed to think of nothing else. Eventually his parents took him to a psychiatrist. “What do you dream about?” asked the shrink. “Cricket,” said the lad. “I dream about going to play at Lords.” “Don’t you sometimes dream about girls?” “What! And lose my turn to bat?”