The car manufacturers all say that in order to enjoy motoring pleasure you need to buy their make and model of car. Oh Really?
I’m only going to take a page out of one day’s driving to see whether there was even one moment that was sheer joy: I live in the mountains outside Valencia in what I like to call an orange tree forest, with commanding views over our little pueblo of Pedralba. When I exit the gates of our home I must first take great care that I’m not rammed by a neighbour flying past as he is in reverse travelling at about 30 kilometres per hour. How he does that along a narrow lane, and without incident, is something to behold.
Then I join the 2 kilometre long tarmac estate road that winds its way through the fields. There are four main junctions that could do with more stop signs, but in reality, there would be very little point as those that are there now are ignored. One day there will be a fatal smash on that road. I just hope that a member of my family will not be involved.
We are in serious Spanish country where the most common vehicle is the tractor. At morning coffee and at lunchtime at the Bar Sardi, the local restaurant parking lot is mainly filled with tractors, and the rest are trucks. For country roads I must admit that our road system, although narrow is well maintained. However, in spite of the fact that there are some nice straight stretches I can never give in to the temptation to put my foot down because I must always expect that around the next corner there will be a slow moving tractor going in the same direction as myself.
Then there are the mega-trucks that go through our little town with streets barely wide enough for two cars to pass. The situation long ago passed critical and calls for a by-pass road grow louder by the day. The plaster quite literally falls from the walls of the homes along the streets, so some relief has to be found soon. I must thread myself ever so carefully through the exit road that will take me to the town of Lliria, the major seat of the government in the region. The road is hilly and winding and the maximum legal speed is 90, but I think that I’m the only person who knows that. Everyone else thinks is about 120 or 130.
Periodically I must go into Lliria on some sort of business. Pedralba was bad, but Lliria on a good day is a nightmare. It seems to me that for the past five years there has been on-going road works on the main route through the town. The problems that are caused by this, plus there seems to be 300% more traffic than parking spaces means that you have to be a glutton for punishment to voluntarily go to that town. Of course, on market day a bad situation is taken to the extreme.
But today I don’t have to suffer through all that. I go on to the CV-35, otherwise known as the Pista de Ademuz for the drive that will take me into downtown Valencia. There is just one little problem: there are major road works for the next fifteen kilometres as an additional lane is added to both sides, making three lanes in each direction. Barriers squeeze the traffic together so that one can hardly breathe. Absolute concentration is necessary, there being no room for error. I made the mistake of overtaking a huge truck and realized while in the middle of that manoeuvre I had made a wrong move. I had to continue, but every centimetre counted. At one point I also realized that I was no longer breathing. I don’t think I will do that again in a hurry.
Since there is a lot of such road works going on at the moment we must be mindful to be on the lookout for the unexpected, such as a breakdown. There is no breakdown lane, so traffic might suddenly come to an abrupt halt, so concentration along these stretches must be absolute.
Finally I emerged from that long stretch of road works into a normal stress level section that lasts for about four kilometres when the next section of road works begins. This is a relatively short section, being part of the new Valencia ring road, but it is at a crucial point as this is where three lanes of traffic fan out into eight lanes, and then into 10 or 12 lanes as we enter the roundabout from hell. Here it is meant that you should get in the proper lane for your intended destination, but almost no-one does. Then, instead of traffic following the invisible lanes as they curve around the roundabout, most people try to short cut across with someone getting squeezed in the middle.
There will be much blasting of horns and screaming of obscenities. My favourites are calling someone an idiot or an imbecile, but in Spanish. With these words you can really wind them up for emphasis: Idiota! Imbécile! Be sure to pronounce every letter, slowly, and with relish. Be sure to place the emphasis on the first letter “e” in imbecile. Nice!
There will almost surely be someone stationed in the lane closest to the inner circle, who wants to go off on the next exit. He will not think it wrong to cut across everyone else, just as long as he does it really fast. That’s when you get the feel of having your heart in your throat.
I have decided that under no circumstances am I going to drive downtown Valencia today. I am going to do what I do most of the time, and that is I am going to park the car at the main junction of Empalme metro station and take either the bus, or the tram, or the metro. There is no use in my driving beyond this point as I will not be able to find a parking space in the street, and I probably won’t find one underground either. In the underground parking you see evidence everywhere of paintwork left behind. Out on the street, if you do find a space you will come back only to find that you are now locked in by a second, or even a third line that has formed.
Motoring pleasure? I didn’t find any today: Maybe tomorrow.
Motorcyclists! Wear a lime-green “Gerry Jacket” reflective vest, by day and by night. “Be Seen to be Safe!”
Copyright © 2007 Eugene Carmichael
