IT TAKES a mild knock to my forehead to admit it, but there
are still advantages to having a car.
This week, reluctantly dusting off the keys to my sedan to
fill the tank before a record-breaking hike hits us in blade-running
proportions, I reflected on the love we've grown for one another - and the
secrets we share.
I live in a city where signs of public transport are
cocooning quietly like the subtext of a modernising urban population.
I surprised myself, and the school psychologist of my youth,
who did not tick the "early adopter" box on my careers test, in
transferring my transport expectations to public options.
So began regular MyCiti bus adventures, combining my journey
sometimes with Metrorail and more frequently with Oscar, my muddy thick wheel
bicycle that fondly remembers his proudest moment when he finished the Cape
Oscar does not have a coffee cup holder. A creative friend
offered a gadget that resembles the balancing act of a single gin and tonic
mix, but we agreed that drinking and cycling is socially frowned upon.
Especially on the breakfast commute rush.
Other optional extras in absence are a magazine rack for my
stash of Big Issues, a linen cupboard for my dog #Ben's travel blanket and a
boot filled with tools that will defuse a small timebomb on a steel bridge.
Should the need arise.
And yet, for daily office commute designs I can comfortably
live without these luxuries. What I battle with, though, is the ability to
complete a journey.
Enter the oil-sipping sedan luxury machine. And even though
it also chips away at the coins I keep in the ashtray to pay for parking, it is
still a safer bet for completing a journey.
Thundering though my thighs may be from early efforts, a
cycle in trendy office wear from City Centre (where I live) to Bellville (where
I meet some clients), about 30km away, is an unlikely occurrence.
Ditto the nearly 5km walk from the nearest rail station to
Like you, I also stare at the solution that seems so
obvious, but completely impossible in the home stretch: integrate the lot (I
hear you all say in a silent, huffed unison).
In time, I'm told, it will happen. There will be bus stations
within walking distance that connect to rail stations within cycling distance,
linking city brother to suburb sister.
Until then, the race is against time herself.
Keeping cycle fit and a tank filled with the platinum liquid
to narrow the gaps between my unconnected spaces requires deep breathing in the
gym and a blue-eyed wink in the bank manager's grey cubicle to settle the
out-of-control garage card.
In related news, I submitted my tax return this week and
sealed the transaction with a wish for above outlined integration.
On Twitter, Adriaan will be accused of subtweeting with the
last line of this column. Yet he braves it as @aiBester while he co-ponders a
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