Crap.
It’s easy to think that sums up how
road users in the Eastern Cape
go about their business.
But the trick is to adopt a
regal stance, as if you are a passenger in a king’s carriage and not driving the
skedonk you usually go around in.
Such a disposition will allow
you, literally, to waft through the madness like a blue light motorcade with
motorbike outriders and remote buttons to switch the traffic lights on your way.
In this guise, you can afford to
be kind.
Other drivers are not foolish
bumpkins who should never have left their villages for the annual jaunt to the
market. They’re loyal subjects who, notwithstanding some idiocy, do your
unspoken bidding, including pulling over to the side of the road, in awe that
you’re on the throne and all is well with their world.
You reciprocate with good grace,
showing your homie a smart royal high five, not by asking “Whoa fool, what were
you thinking back there?”
At the four-way stop street, you
understand that mere mortal local driver subjects will take a wee bit longer
than you did but eventually, they, too, will get the “first come, first go”
rule, so no need to shout at the next dawdler.
Egg them on at traffic circles,
gently, without reference to moving-anytime-this-year. They’ll realise they really
can go, they don’t have to stop or yield to you. The same rule applies here as
it does at all circles - yield to the right - except at those circles which
have a big notice board indicating ‘first come, first go’.”
And never shake your imperial mace
when the traffic lights are out and other motorists have forgotten that the
intersection reverts to a four-way stop. Simply rely on the majestic
four-wheeler’s accident avoidance design to get you out of trouble in the
middle of the crossroads.
As for slowcoaches going at
15k’s an hour, don’t ponder the eternal question “why do slow drivers drive
slowly?” or point out to them with your middle finger that you decreed 60k was
a safe speed limit. Just enjoy the extra time to gaze upon your kingdom from
the comfort of your cab.
And, they’re way better road
hogging vassals than inveterate lane changers.
Sometimes, the limo will be a
bit too big for rush-hour traffic. Don’t tailgate from your throne, or hoot. A
kind nudge to the cars ahead of you will open up the extra inch you need to
squeeze through.
A similar stately approach will
work for those who stop slap bang on the “keep clear” road marking at the start
of your driveway. Granted, they’re imbeciles, but they’re your imbeciles.
Indicators on cars are like your
inheritance – carefully hidden lest people think you’re a show-off - don’t
reprimand those who turn without indicating.
If others have not seen the
arrow giving them right-of-way, don’t ask (through your open window): “What the
hell are you dreaming about?” Wave them through with the ceremonial flag you
keep on the dashboard.
Remember, these are like last-second
indicators, slow exiters of parking spaces, the ubiquitous cellphone-users, those
who lack the ability to anticipate what’ll happen next on the road - bad
drivers but good subjects.
Cyclists are a challenge for any
monarch. But they’re your followers too, despite riding all bunched up instead
of single filing, not stopping where they should and taking their obscenely
bulging lycra attire into half-decent coffee shops at the end of their rides.
So too with pedestrians, who may
cross roads with a never-say-die impunity.
If you can, like Kipling, then ride
with royal decorum with your fellow travellers. - RAY HARTLE
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