10,000 Maniacs

We spent today in the city of Wellington playing Dodge-um Cars. To cross an intersection it is look, stop, slam on the brakes, look again, nose out, screech, put her in first and burn rubber. We haven't been able to find any rhyme or reason to the way people drive here. Apparently courtesy flies out the window as soon as it is cracked low enough for someone to fling their arm out. God only knows what the gestures mean. Perhaps they are all different ways of saying "Where the hell did you learn to drive?"

In the cities it's other drivers be damned and pedestrians beware, chances of survival are minimal. In case you think I'm stretching things a bit, let me bring you this. This morning's radio talk show host presented this question to his listening audience. "Why do Wellingtonians always knock down pedestrians?" Two more had been bowled down last night.

One caller put the blame on the pedestrians. "They shouldn't be in the road when a car is." One has to wonder if he is ever on foot. Another called in to say that the rule is simple. If a pedestrian is not yet to the white triangle in the center of the road, it's perfectly fine to drive on through. Yes, it's scary folks, they are out there and they all have a drivers license.

I too wanted to make a call to the station. I think the problem stems from phone conversations. You can't possibly mind the road when you're yapping on the cell phone. And everyone here seems to own one. I guess you just never know when you'll have to ring someone up to tell them that you're pulling into the drive, be home in a minute.

The driving problem here is not isolated to the cities. Despite the windy curves, the blind corners and the narrow lanes, New Zealanders fly. They get behind the wheel and are transformed into Bond, James Bond. It's common on a two lane road to see a passer passing a passer as another car rushes toward them in the other lane. Pulling back in seconds before a collision must make more of a thrill of the otherwise mundane task of driving.

On one curvy road in the Northland area, I was passed by an old lady. She pushed me to the left to the edge of a drop and then threw her arm out the window in one of those friendly gestures. She pulled back in just in time to reach the passing lane.

The speed limits here are incredibly fast. But the trick I was told is to outdo them. If a switchback road calls for 75 km/hr, gun for 90. No wonder the death toll on the roads in New Zealand is so high. I pulled off the road near a bridge today and was warned by a sheeper across the fence that I shouldn't stay there. That spot had been the sight of three deaths in as many months.

I've come to the conclusion that driving is a way for Kiwis to relieve their aggressions. That same person who was so friendly to us at the dairy shop, taking the time to welcome us, give us directions and advice on the best place to camp, might just bowl us over on the road getting there.