Life in the fast lane

When I realised my car had been towed from a busy Auckland city street on a Thursday afternoon, I was not entirely surprised.

In my haste to find a car park, I had absent-mindedly parked in a bus lane.

I confess I am no stranger to Auckland's inner-city tow yards so I knew what to do next.

Where is that whining noise coming from? Oh, I see: it is someone who absent-mindedly parks in bus lanes and is no stranger to tow-yards complaining that her car was missing for two weeks.

That is two weeks in which Ms Irvine could not clog up the bus lanes, so I think this is a win for the city. Perhaps Ms Irvine might have tried taking a bus while she was waiting for her car to be found; perhaps she might have learned what it is like to be stuck in traffic because some selfish yuppie has parked absent-mindedly ("oh, silly me: I am such a dizz") in the bus lane. Perhaps she might figure out that it takes just one dick to make scores of people late for work. But no, she uses her experience for copy. Poor, poor pitiful her.

Of course, she works for the Herald, which will always publish a motormouth. Witness all those letters by aggrieved men, who write to complain about getting speeding tickets, they being experienced drivers who are competent to drive over the limit when the conditions require it. Witness my friend Dan Sloan:

We've all seen irresponsible groups of cyclists riding in pelotons, three or four abreast with little care or sympathy for the other road users they endanger through their recklessness. And Tamaki Drive is rife with them.

A large number of these people also make up what are known as cycling pressure groups, who always have something to say when there is an incident involving cyclists on our roads, regardless of who is actually at fault.

Witness as well Herald motorhead Eric Thompson:

A public road with cars thundering along is no place for a cyclist, no matter how much they bleat about having every right to be in the same place as a car. I'm unsure if it's either arrogance or stupidity that lead various cycle organisations to insist on saying cyclists have equal rights with cars.

And it is not just cyclists who make Mr Thompson's viens bulge:

Listen up all you numpties who ponce along at 60km/h in the outside lane - you don't own the road so move over. It's called the fast lane for a reason you fools, and just in case you can't work out what fast lane means, it's also called a passing lane.

Protip: try driving at 100 kmph in the fast lane and see what happens; it is not pleasant.

Oh well, at least there is one Herald reporter who rides a bike: Martin Johnston. But it is usually the motorists who get to rant to defend their antisocial behaviour and to demand that everybody else get out of the way. One wonders whether other citizens with unpleasant habits and anger-management issues might also get to vent their spleens in the Herald, something along the lines of 'there was this bloke in the pub, right, and he was looking at me funny; so I said, "what's up with you mate' and then I bottled him before he could reply. '

Anyway, get down to Queen's Wharf on Sunday for Ride For Life.




Pere Ubu, with Jeremy Clarkson on theremin: