It’s time to pose the question: is Pakenham home to the worst drivers in Australia?
A recent frantic Friday spent dodging errant vehicle-borne lunatics set me thinking about country areas famed for bad driving behaviour.
Rugged country-style individuality, coupled with a propensity for V8 power, make for an unfortunate mix in many of our regional towns.
But despite the number of hoons revving up in larger regional centres like Geelong, Ballarat and Bendigo, I still think Pakenham’s octane-sniffers take the biscuit.
Pakenham has the lot – the middle-aged leadfoots, the indecisive elderly, the young male hoons in overpowered utes, the vacuous gum-chewing 19-year-old girls with P-plates on the window and mobiles to the ear.
The only more dreaded symbol of four-wheeled terror is the white bowls hat on the parcel shelf of the vehicle in front, an ironclad guarantee of driving incompetence.
And let’s not forget the tradies. Judging by how often their vans occupy disabled parking spaces, I think we just might be home to the largest population of handicapped tradesmen in Australia.
It’s great to see them striking a blow for disabled male labourers in their twenties and thirties across the nation.
The overwhelming common denominator of all these species is twofold – drivers who are heavy on the foot and light on the brain.
But it’s not only speed.
The one thing they have in common above all else is this – a selfishness that defies belief.
In the heart of darkness of every Pakenham driver lurks this simple self-belief, writ large in block capitals: “I AM MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU”.
Why else would every individual driver seem to have the idea that they have sole and exclusive priority on the road?
True, Pakenham’s evident growing pains do not help.
It doesn’t take much for the main street to find itself in a state of almost perpetual gridlock. To attempt to pull out into the maelstrom is to fear for one’s life.
The roads are narrow, traffic volumes high, and most intersections appear to have been designed by an especially dim two-year-old in a sandpit.
But none of this is any excuse for adopting the driving etiquette of downtown Baghdad. After all, they’re at war. And assault rifles, grenades and rocket launchers cut down on repeat offenders in the road rage stakes.
Meanwhile, on the home front, pretty much every form of moving violation is on display.
It is apparent that the rear of some “special” vehicles are impervious to damage. I know this because of how often they cut me off and pull out in front of me in the certain knowledge that their steel-coated posteriors are impenetrable.
A personal favourite: sitting patiently at a T-intersection, watching a vehicle dawdle up from about a kilometre away. At a distance of about 10 feet or so, it will kindly indicate.
Hoon drivers? There’s one born every minute, and one dies every year. I grit my teeth and recall a review of a V8 ute, accurately described as “a means of transforming hydrocarbons into anti-social behaviour”.
The remedy is a simple one. If we want a better world, we’re all going to have to be better. That means we’ll all need to take a deep breath and count to 10 – me included.
And if you see a weary-looking bloke driving a black Celica, go easy on him. He’s been through a lot.
– Jason Beck
