I’m hurtling everywhere at twenty nine miles an hour. It doesn’t matter where I go or how fast I seem to go, I end up averaging out at the top speed of a domestic cat. It’s the traffic that slows me down. It has become the bane of my life. It has become an unhealthy obsession. What used to be a relatively pleasant and carefree drive in and out of work has now become three hours of stress.
Apparently traffic is getting slower due to the number of home deliveries we are enjoying. The rise of internet shopping has led to a greater number of white vans, which has led to more congestion and a slower pace. I’m not sure how they work it all out but that internet has a lot to answer for. I can’t tell whether the increase in small delivery vehicles has had an impact or not. I still end up at twenty nine miles per hour. It would be quicker by grizzly bear.
This morning’s drive in was filled with its expected trials and tribulations, what with all the work going on in Team Valley. The traffic around Gosforth was unusually bad and I got stuck on the bridge over the Tyne. I took the opportunity to weave my way behind the Metro Centre and join the traffic a kilometre or so into the roadworks that continue to add to my displeasure. We crawled along until we approached the junction at the north end of the valley when I decided to pull out into the right hand lane to avoid the traffic leaving or joining around Lobley hill.
I don’t know if this has ever happened to you but I checked my mirror, saw a gap, put on my indicator and started to move over to the right. The car behind me in that lane then sped up to close the gap and make sure they got in front. I shouldn’t let these things bother me but I felt aggrieved, bullied and put out. They were in one of those overly large German SUVs and I was in my little yet perfectly adequate Peugeot which added to my angst. . It was David versus Goliath and it got to me. I felt that they had breached that unwritten code of fellow roadwork sufferers and for the next ten minutes or so I imagined all the clever things I was going to do to ruin his day (I assumed it was a he).
I didn’t use my horn or flash my lights. I stayed a respectable distance behind and after a while I forgot all about it, that is until I got to the roundabout at Chester le Street when I realised that they were just one car in front of me. Well that was it. The chase was on. Without breaking the speed limit yet with some clever use of lanes I was finally able to pull in front of him at Plawsworth. I smiled. Moral victory was mine although I doubt the other driver even noticed.
It was pathetic! Why do these things bother us?