Potholes, taxis and tailgaters: The battle for sanity on SA roads
· Citizen
There was a time when driving used to be relaxing. People would glide down the roads listening to music, waving politely at fellow motorists.
Those days are gone, I see. Modern traffic has turned ordinary citizens into emotionally unstable gladiators armed with coffee cups and passive-aggressive indicator lights.
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Somewhere between load shedding, potholes large enough to host bass fishing competitions and minibus taxis materialising from alternate dimensions, road rage has quietly become South Africa’s unofficial national sport.
I myself have transformed from a calm woman with reasonable blood pressure into somebody who mutters things in traffic that would make a pirate blush.
Take the fellow who drives 43km/h in the fast lane while staring into the distance like someone contemplating ancient philosophy.
Behind him are 17 vehicles, three divorces waiting to happen and one woman – me – gripping the steering wheel so tightly I can hear my car insurance premium increasing.
Then there are the tailgaters. These people believe the safest following distance is apparently “close enough to read my emotional state through the rearview mirror”.
At one stage last week, a bakkie was so close behind me I could practically hear the driver chewing gum.
Naturally, we need coping mechanisms. Personally, I’ve started inventing backstories for terrible drivers.
The woman applying mascara at a red traffic light? Clearly late for an audition as a back-up dancer in a low-budget music video.
The man swerving between lanes without indicators? Definitely fleeing responsibility, alimony, or both.
The taxi driver stopping wherever his spirit guides him? Former Formula One driver denied his destiny by cruel fate.
It helps tremendously. Some people sing loudly in traffic. Others listen to podcasts about mindfulness while simultaneously threatening strangers under their breath.
One woman keeps emergency snacks in her cubbyhole specifically to prevent herself from becoming a headline.
Frankly, that’s wisdom. Because road rage is no longer about traffic. It’s about survival.
At this point, I fully support installing tiny therapy counsellors at every traffic light.
“Good morning, ma’am,” they’d say gently. “Yes, the taxi did cut you off. But remember, prison is not worth it…”