Dumb Fuck
The Sydney rush-hour (or hours!) is a frightening and horrible beast that burdens the thousands of motorists forced to brave the torrential traffic in the hours surrounding their workdays. The morning throng generally gets bad at 6.30/7 O'clock (depending on your exact whereabouts and destination), peaks around 8, before finally subsisting between 9 and 9.30. Drivers in this traffic are sleepy and slow - taking their sweet, precious time to get to their dreaded workplace.
The afternoon rush hour is some other kind of monster. It seems that every idiot with access to a vehicle and enough free time to go and get there license is on the road, and apparently road rules aren't cool anymore. You'd think that with the amount of hopeless drivers in this city, people would be using every means possible to make their travels as safe as possible. Maybe caring for your own safety isn't cool anymore either.
Every other bastard is trying desperately to get their arses home as quick as humanly (or mechanically) possible. Tiny little women who can barely see over the steering wheel's of their Range Rovers try to squeeze themselves into any gap it will fit. Young people with music blaring thrash their Toyota Yaris's to the limit, fanging between red lights and on-ramp queues all while their eyes are glued to their smart-phones as they text and check their Facebook and email. Nobody slows down for roundabouts - they sail through without even thinking of looking to their right, leaving me to slam on my brakes and scream, “FUCK!” loud enough that they'll hopefully hear me. I swear and wave my arms out the window, trying to gain their attention, but it rarely works. Features like mirrors on new cars are only there for aesthetic function anyway. If someone's going to sideswipe you, you should hear a beep or
some warning alarm, then hopefully the car will re-direct itself into a safe lane of traffic while also suggesting some new music for you to listen to and possibly even offering you a nicely toasted croissant. Cars pretty much drive themselves these days. Cars parallel-parking themselves is a supremely useful feature in a city where people take an average of 3 attempts to perform one properly. Windscreen-wipers that turn themselves on when they sense rain is just one less flick of the wrist away from that inevitable RSI.
I find all these modern “luxuries” completely unnecessary in a vehicle because I've always driven bombs. Car's that I don't mind scratching on a post down the shops, or filling full of crap when I've got lots of crap to cart. If a mate happens to spill some shit in their, it's not the end of the world, and if said mate ends up going the vom too, well, if he cleans it up, it's all good. The point is, I don't have nice things. Nice things get fucked up, and that sucks. So I like to keep it simple. My car at the moment is far from water-tight and covered in scratches on the roof from putting my kayak on and off the rook-racks. It's scarred with a few dings and replaced panels, has no air-con, heater or de-mister, two broken electric windows, an imminent to crack CV joint, and no horn.
If, at least, you happen to be lucky enough to be able plant your hand down and send off a few crisp honks in the direction of some idiot behind the wheel, consider yourself lucky. It's probably the only chance you have of breaking the road-mobile zombies out of their LMFAO or The Black Eyed Pea stupor, streaming live out of KOK FM at an ear-bleedingly loud volume.
I broke my horn punching it in upon an over-excited arrival at a mates party and it stuck, causing a never-ending, unfriendly blare in the backs of my eyeballs. I swiftly took the fuse out and turned to see a group of pissed-off neighbors sending me squintey-eyed looks from behind their respective mailboxes and door-jams. I tossed the fuse up into the air and caught it again, assuming that they knew what it was and what I'd just done. In my head, I was the hero who killed the evil noise, but in their eyes I'm sure I just looked like some dude trying to blatantly steal some shit-box car in broad daylight.
To describe the frustration of not being able to beep your horn at some dickhead doing some dangerous, oblivious maneuver in traffic, I'd probably have to bitch-slap your youngest child while you helplessly watch from behind a plexi-glass screen. Even though I don't have kids, that's the only thing I can really compare it to. My only other crutch in that situation is that I can strobe them with my high-beams, which usually just confuses the fuck out of people, especially when they're drooling idiots on auto-pilot mode.
And forgot about people using the blinker anymore. Remember the good old blinker? How it used to aid us in getting to where we needed to be, safely and helpfully. Well those days have changed, my devoted readers (yes, if you've read this far then you are already one of my devoted readers). Gone are the days of when you pull up to an intersection, you'd have the privilege of being aware of the other vehicles intended movements. Nowadays, it's just far too much effort for most people to merely extend a hand, or even just a finger, to pull a lever as they turn the steering wheel. Something that used to be second nature is now a chore involving far too much mental and physical effort.
Consider yourself fortunate if some good soul lets you in their lane in front of them, because god forbid we mustn't let people get somewhere before us. That might make us late to get home! Don't always think that people are actually letting you in front of them though, it's usually because they were busy texting someone, or reading about someones lunch on Facebook, and didn't notice the light turn green. All you can do is give them a wave, and smile as they speed past you, glaring at you sideways in an effort to let you know that they are a way better driver than you.
You can expect this on any given day. That's why your wits must be about you every time you get behind that wheel. Even if you find yourself driving home at midday, on a comfortably warm Autumn day, which happens to be where this event took place.
I sat behind the wheel smoking and farting, trying to peer into other cars as they cruised past me. Traffic was at its standard level of shit-storm, and peak hour loomed over us like a giant Satanic demon playing with to cars. This is a part of the day fraught with danger, as most motorists flee home in a deranged scramble to avoid the inevitable afternoon gridlock. Tradies who designate their own hours and can afford to knock off early dominate the streets, as well as those parents picking up those academically-challenged kids from school who aren't able to catch a bus or train home from school for some reason. As far as I could tell, there were minimal sexy women on the roads, apart from one cute blonde. I smiled and waved at her as she let me in in front of her. I waved for two reasons. One, she was a babe, and two, because nobody else does anymore. Everybody I talk to says they do, but I rarely bloody see it anymore. Is it that hard to be the tiniest bit courteous and grateful? It should be illegal not to give a wave, but if you do, at least make sure the person who's just let you in can actually see your acknowledgment. Don't just flick your hand in the air like some dismissive Spanish gesture. Wait until you've fullly merged and put your hand up in front of your rear-view where they can't miss it, and if you're reall grateful, do what I do and roll down you window (yes, even if it's a bit cold or wet, you pussy) and shove your arm out as far as you can. I'll often form a thumbs up with said hand, just to make the person behind me a little bit more content in the fact that they've just let a true gentleman in front of them. I also like to at least raise a finger or nod at somebody who's given us a wave. It feels good when you get one back too.
Lately, I've taken it upon myself to make these ungrateful, non-waving, road-rule-abusing pricks fully aware of their lack of waving. If I'm really urked, I'll give them a small beep. That usually gains their attention, but more often than not these idiots are completely unaware that they didn't wave because they are just as unaware of the thoughts and intentions of the other motorists around them. This is the root of the entire problem – people not being considerate of others. Once I've noticed their gaze focus on me in their rear-view, then I like to flash my high beams once or twice, and then spread my arms out wide, my right arm hanging out my window, and give them a kind of wave/what-the-fuck kind of gesture that hopefully makes them aware of what they've done, or haven't done. Unfortunately, most other drivers are so unaware of the wave and what it means that after viewing my gesturing and sometimes screaming in their rear-view, they are still completely clueless as to what they may have done wrong. To these people I say, go fuck yourselves! You don't deserve the right to drive on our roads, clogging them up like a Southern American's arteries. Go buy yourself a license in another country.
The traffic slugged along steadily, most motorists neglecting to maintain eye contact with me for more than a split second as I looked around the cars stopped at the lights. This isn't actually a trait exclusively seen in drivers in this city, pedestrians usually fail to look a man in the eye for very long either – their gaze quickly darting to the side in an effort to ensure that they don't have to smile, greet or be friendly to another stranger.
As the light faded, congestion took over the night. The beams of red and bright white headlights smeared themselves across my dirty windscreen and the putrid fumes our vehicles created were now visibly traversing the intersection. Hundreds of cars filled with discontent, tired, angry, fed-up and irritated citizens. It's a wonder how there isn't 5 times as many more car crashes. I couldn't count the amount of close calls I've had that would've undeniably been some other assholes fault.
Now cars are one thing, but bikes are in a whole realm of their own. To be a cyclist in peak hour traffic, you've got to be clinically insane. That doesn't mean I have much respect for them. I mean, the whole eco-friendly, non-gas-emitting vehicle thing is all well and good, but stay out of my fucking road you fuckers.
I sat at these lights, casually singing and tapping away on my dash, when I noticed a cyclist towing his young child in a little backwards-facing carriage type thing. “How dangerous,” I thought to myself, before being smacked in the mouth by a fist of complete and utter shock. I watched on as this fool took a corner much too fast and skidded his jury-rigged tandem-bike of death sideways, which not only had drastic consequences for the carriage and the baby in it, but when he mounted the curb, the baby actually became air-born (as opposed to usual birth, which I assume the baby would've been quite familiar with) and flew right out of it's seat, landing first on the grass and then rolling onto the road.
When the lights changed nobody moved except for one bloke in a ute pumping Chisel, who must've seen a baby bounce onto a three-lane highway before because, unlike the rest of us voyeurs, he didn't seem like he really wanted to stick around and see what happened.
The dad got off his bike, slowly, walked towards the baby, then stopped. A bus was approaching. Quickly. I looked around and the obvious shape of, “OH MY FUCKING GOD!” was on all the other motorists lips as well.
At first he didn't move, and I thought, this guy is a complete bloody moron/freak/man-slaughterer/most-horrible-father-ever. But then some paternal instinct must've pulsed through his glands and he lunged towards the child with the intensity of a hungry crocodile biting the crotch out of a low flying duck. He swiped and grabbed the baby by the helmet, which, of course, came straight off because the dip-shit hadn't fastened it up. The 433 was barely ten metres away. Father fuckwit had another crack, and this time grabbed his baby by the leg and pulled it to safety; hugging it to his chest and kissing it's helmetless head.
The light went green for the second time since I'd pulled up, and all the cars began to move off. I could see most people looking over at this dad putting his kid back in his seat. He checked all the straps and made sure the helmet was secure. Then he looked around, seemingly to at once realise the amount of onlookers who'd just gotten a public display of his incompetency as a father and as a human. The look on his face said that.
I think that in occasions like these, one must do what they can to hopefully ensure similar situations don't arise for said victim/patient/dumbarse in the future by giving them some simple advice which they can take on board and use to better themselves. That's the type of bloke I am.
As I approached the opposite side of the lights I wound down the one working window on the other side of my car, casually leaned over and yelled, “YOU DUMB FUCK!”
10TH MARCH 2011