When in Rome, do as the Romans do
It is very difficult not to adjust to the bad driving by becoming a bad driver yourself, because if you don’t, you will suffer immeasurable frustration. It requires the patience and calm of someone who has mastered all baser impulses. Sometimes, it is not
MY introduction to motorised vehicles was by way of a rickety second hand scrambler motorbike. It was red and seemed to have the attitude of a worldweary street-fighter. Sure enough it survived us all.
To get started, one required a committed pushing effort from one’s cohorts. This meant no one could abuse the queuing system otherwise everyone simply refused to give you the push you needed. After my first fall from the bike and the resulting burn on my leg from the exhaust pipe, I gave up motorbikes. It was not worth the pain and the scarring. We took up with one of the old tractors instead.
This activity my father put a stop to when someone (not me) reversed into one of the brick pillars of the storage shed and knocked it down.
I resumed my lessons in driving by becoming the designated valet service of our home. Whenever my parents or visitors needed their cars moved or re-parked, I was the go-to. In this manner I became very comfortable with reverse and first gear. I was an expert at these two manoeuvres, therefore I found it more than mildly alarming when I began formal driving lessons and found myself required to transition from one to two to three and ultimately fourth gear on the old airport landing strip in Belvedere.
This is the place where everyone learnt to drive during my time.
It was a full year before I was to finally get my driver’s licence. This process involved sitting for my provisional licence four times, because I kept getting four answers wrong — with a maximum of three answers incorrect you would get your provisional. I took my driver’s test three times and passed the fourth time after starting in the VID yard with the drums. Before, I never even made it to the drums, when the procedure was the reverse. The first time I went out I was so nervous I couldn’t keep my foot steady on the clutch and I kept stalling. The second time I failed to stop at a pedestrian crossing and the third time the examiner was so unfriendly I completely unravelled and made an almighty mess of the entire process. I almost gave up, but my mother and my aunt convinced me to try again and finally I got my licence.
I was 17-years-old and we still used hand signals when slowing down and turning and the roads did not resemble the dodgems rides at amusement parks.
Everyday I am out driving lately I see someone do something that leaves me with my mouth wide open in amazement, from cutting corners to such an extreme degree that the driver instantly becomes American in terms of which side of the road they are driving, to ploughing down oncoming traffic while overtaking, with lights actually flashing for cars rightfully in their own lane, to make way.
Sometimes I want to take a stand and refuse to move out of the way but I believe such action would most likely result in what is known as a pyrrhic victory — “a victory that inflicts such a devastating toll on the victor that it is tantamount to defeat.”
Certainly in such an instance, taking a stand would result in my being maimed or killed. Not worth the sacrifice, as I doubt this would make much difference in the way people are driving.
Sometimes, I wish I was able to take a survey and find out just where all these road bullies are rushing to, how many of them actually know the rules of the road, how many of them are licensed and if so, did they come about their licence honestly? It would be interesting to see the results. What is it, that makes one driver believe they deserve to get to or through the traffic lights faster than the car ahead of them, so much so they must drive down the shoulder to insert themselves into the flow somewhere further ahead, or that they must block your view when turning so that they create a double or triple turning lane from which you are now required to proceed at their discretion or simply wait until everyone who thinks they are a more savvy driver than you, has taken the turn?
It is very difficult not to adjust to the bad driving by becoming a bad driver yourself, because if you don’t, you will suffer immeasurable frustration.
It requires the patience and calm of someone who has mastered all baser impulses. Sometimes, it is not simply a matter of self control but one of self preservation that requires you to adjust.
Many years ago, when I reported to a police traffic section after being involved in an accident with a very large truck, this is what I was told, “Madam, if you insist upon your right of way, you will end up causing accidents every time. You should have just given way.” There you have it. Might is right and the right of way only works in the diagrams of the Highway Code. It seems, in practice, one must act to preserve life and property rather than to follow the rules.
This causes extreme consternation for some of us who believe in rules, especially those that are there to create order.
However, what I have noticed is that the driving becomes considerably worse the further you drive from the northern suburbs, particularly after passing Bishop Gaul heading south, south-west.
This is how you know you are entering a different part of town, the part of town where the guards at supermarket entrances check your receipt and your shopping bags as you exit the store. My question is why? Why is this change so noticeable? And why am I the same person whose receipt is not checked in Mount Pleasant but is checked in Belvedere? Have I crossed some border and entered a different country where conditions are so vastly different that greater security measures are warranted?
Is it because the mentality of the drivers on this side of town is so twisted that it affects their behaviour in the stores or is it the other way around? Perhaps it’s something in the water — when it is there, (jokes aside) or is it simply the difference in socialisation?
On this side of town we know how to greet each other with courtesy while on foot but those cultural concepts do not translate into how to behave once a person is behind the illusion of isolation that is pieces of metal on wheels.
Do we become overwhelmed by a sense of importance and power once behind a steering wheel that we forget the manners we employed outside of the vehicle when we said, Good morning, how did you sleep? I slept well if you slept well? How are things where you came from today? They are well and how is it at yours? No, we become, big men and women who know better and who haven’t got time to put up with someone who is not being as clever or as fast as we can be once we put our foot on those pedals.
What can we do to change this behaviour? It gets worse and worse and it is reaching the stage where it is adapt or perish. There is a social education requirement that is missing in the way we interact with each other on the road, particularly on my side of town or is it me? Am I failing to understand that I am in Rome and must do as the Romans do? This must be the case, because in my country, I am not immediately a suspect because I have walked into a supermarket.