Life in the fast lane

Yeah, I’ve done cage diving, met the shark with my name on it. I’ve tried rock climbing, Nordic skiing, even ridden downhill at Skyline and gone over the handlebars. It’s true I’ve got a thing for adventure sports, and adventure sportsmen. But my latest death-defying hobby is the most dangerous of them all. It’s getting the groceries out of the car and crossing Serpentine Ave. While you don’t need specialist gear, you do need courage and lightning-fast reflexes, because people drive down this little road so fast, racketing around the corner like they’ve just been stung on the balls by a bee.

I don’t want to live life (or experience death) in the fast lane, so I emailed the council’s transport department. ‘‘Dear fellas, I’ve just moved into a cottage on Serpentine Ave and jeepers do people drive fast down my road! I’m worried that someone will get seriously injured or killed by a speeding car. Maybe a set of slow-the-heck-down bumps would be a good idea? Or one of those good behaviour-affirming electronic signs with a frowny/smiley face?’’

They got right back to me, told me they’d look into it. So that’s some great service right there.

In the meantime, traffic continued to whoosh by. The wind from vehicles rocketing past whipped my hair up into a weird troll-do as I tried to get a lamp base out of the boot. Achieving the most mundane of domestic chores was like trying to do the ironing in the pit at the Formula One.

Like running the bulls without the nice weather and red cummerbunds.

One of the hurtling cars did a 360 skid and ended up wrapped around a pole. The driver survived, thank goodness, and I’m not sure if speed was a factor but 360s need a bit of oomph as a rule.

Annoyance made me begin to defy the Final Destination nature of it all, I started deliberately crossing the road like a blind koala crossing a Queensland highway. Walking not running. Drivers unrelentingly careened around the corner only to be slamming on the brakes, surprised that people lived in houses and crossed roads here.

The council got back to me. They thanked me for reaching out, for being proactive and sharing my concerns about traffic safety. They understood the challenges I was facing, which was nice of them, but resources were limited and all the slow-the-heck-down bumps had been allocated for the next few years. Also, it turns out Serpentine Ave is a collector road (collects a lotta traffic), as well as an alternative over-dimension route (fat trucks can use it at 3am), so it was unlikely that speed bumps will be installed, particularly under the new Government Policy Statement on Land Transport 2024.

Dang this new gubberment, I thought. First they came for Māori, then the environment, and now they want to see me skittled outside my own house. A friend told me about people putting up fake speed signs in a village in the UK to get motorists to slow down, and while this does have merit, I’m fairly sure I’d be murdered by motorised transportation during the act of installation.

I’m yet to find a solution. The only good thing is that I no longer need to drive up a mountain or take a boat offshore to the shark breeding grounds. If I ever feel in need of thrills or excitement, should I suddenly crave the adrenaline rush of danger, I can just walk out to the car to get my lipgloss. There could even be a television show idea in there: Survivor, Serpentine. You could do it naked like Naked and Afraid: last one standing. Actually, that might slow the cars right down, come to think of it.

Watch this space.