Rush-hour ranting

Stationary traffic can do strange things to motorists, especially when traffic light phasing continues relentlessly and no cars can move.

- MATT VANCE

The traffic lights have been green for some time, yet we are not moving anywhere. It's rush hour in Auckland and it's just about to rain. Ahead of me in the queue of cars is a late-model BMW with a driver who appears to be getting agitated. Like most of the cars around me, the BMW contains only one occupant. Through the rear window, I can see hand gestures and head shaking all going on in the silent vacuum of the leather-upholstered interior.

For a minute, I figure the driver is talking on her hands-free phone - until she opens the car door. Out of the silence of the leather upholstered interior pours a ranting torrent of abuse. There is no phone; it is a conversation with herself.

The abuse does not appear to be focused at anyone in particular. Her ranting seems to be at the world, until it takes an unexpected turn as she focuses her attack on the nearby traffic lights. Only the odd word of this rant is reaching my ears. The occupants of the idling cars around her try to avoid eye contact by focusing on their phones. The driver of the late-model BMW takes no heed of the colour change. Her beat is the same whether the lights are red, orange or green. The traffic lights take this with an unblinking stoicism, rolling through their cycle as if she is not there. While no one enjoys rush hour, these occasional public displays of urban neurosis in the midst of it make everyone downright uncomfortable.

Nowhere in all the utopian visions of the perfect city is there any consideration of the automobile. A perfect city is supposed to have an immaculate public transport system, which renders car ownership unnecessary.