The great traffic circle debate

September 15, 2011. One of the weirdest interviews I’ve ever done for The Ridge was when I interviewed an executive (who shall not be named) from a company on Umhlanga Ridge (which shall definitely remain nameless), who decided to impress me by taking me for a joyride around Umhlanga’s many traffic circles.

Just a quick digression here, I’d pitched up correct and present expecting to meet said executive (let’s call him Bob), who then kept me waiting for half an hour before bursting through the doors like a star of the big screen getting set to blast the bad guys out of their hiding hole. Bob had character and personality in spades, and he wanted you to know it. While clearly no slouch at his job, he seemed desperate to make an impression . . . maybe he was trying to impress a certain someone with his editorial. Beats me.

Anyway, once we’d gone through the motions of the interview, and I had the story I wanted (plus a whole lot more that wasn’t fit for print), it was time for some pictures. This is when I learned (little did I realise what I was getting into) that Bob was a hard-core petrolhead. “Let’s go downstairs, I wanna show you something,” he said. And there was an old Mercedes from, I’d say, the early 90s, which was decently maintained and looked like it’d recently had a wash. Bob: “Waddayuthink?” Me: “It looks really  . . . nice.” Bob: “Come, we’re going for a ride.” Me: “The pictures?” Bob: “Come back another day.”

What proceeded was 10 of the scariest minutes of my life. Those who know me would agree I’m hardly a speed freak. Occasionally I slip up to 140km/h, but you’ll never see me flying at 180, or hitting 100 in a 60 zone. It’s just not my scene. Bob, on the other hand, had a need for speed . . . and he had a need to show me his need for speed. The dear little sweetie decided to take me for a whirl around Umhlanga Ridge . . . and through all its millions of crazy traffic circles . . . In rush hour nogal.

Going through those roundabouts on a normal day can be an interesting experience. Then you sometimes do about 40-60km/h. Occasionally you have to yield, or even stop, heaven forbid. Bob, on the other hand was all fired up. Stop was not in his vocabulary . . . he had never even heard of the concept. And his “old” looking Merc, well that thing was a machine of note. It made this psycho humming noise as it did 0-100km/h in about 5 seconds flat . . . there is no other way to describe it, I nearly shat myself.

Cars were coming at us from the right . . . no problem, we just darted in front before roaring away; some okie dared to enter ahead of us, he got a brisk “voetsek” and was quickly left in the dust.

Needless to say, my Umhlanga Ridge traffic circle experience left me shattered. I had a whole new perspective on those pesky roundy-roundy things. (They’ve always freaked me out because growing up in Durbs we didn’t have traffic circles, it was like a Joburg thing).

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Any thoughts of doing some work and actually compiling my business profile went out the window . . . man, I was just lucky to be alive. I said my farewells to an ecstatic Bob and dragged my sorrowful behind back to the office . . . at an extremely safe crawl.