A BRIT TAKES TO THE TUCSON ROADS

I knew that I would be surrounded by all things big before I arrived in the states but nothing could have prepared me for the monstrosities which one regularly encounters up one’s rear end on Tucson’s highways. Whenever I am crowded by one of those designer humvees, as I tootle along in my Nissan Sentra, I shudder. And as for those dirty great pick-ups, whose owners have paid anything up to 5 grand for a top of the range Lift-Kit (these raise the frame of the vehicle up from the axel and wheels in order to a) give it clearance over water and other obstacles, b) enhance the experience for lovers of 4-wheeling in the mountains above the Old Pueblo and c) afford assorted rednecks and macho-men even more testosterone than they already have), I have seen more aesthetically pleasing objects in the Air Force bone yard on South Kolb.

That is not to say that some of the sights on the roads here are not endearing. I certainly have a soft spot for the rugged, 50-something, bikers in their knee-high boots, bandanas and mirrored Raybans. And the pristine front ends of big rigs, huge steel grilles gleaming in the sunlight, are surprisingly seductive.

I am a Londoner and am used to driving in an incredibly dense, rabbit warreny, roundabout-ridden city. In comparison, driving in a straight line around the Tucson grid system is a stroll in the park. But, and it is a big but, the danger is complacency. Before long, you find yourself speeding, zig-zagging from lane to lane and neglecting to put your seat belt on.

However, it would take an unnecessary amount of effort to effect as sudden and violent a lane change, from within touching distance of the rear bumper of the car in front, as many of the folk here are inclined to do – Tucsonans just do not do ‘smooth`. Another common trait that has particularly struck me is the reluctance of drivers to slow down when approaching traffic lights or a junction from a side road. So many of them look like they are going to overshoot before slamming on the breaks at the last minute. Guess they get some kind of buzz out of it.

Etiquette would appear to be a quaint, bourgeois, concept which has no place in the dog eat dog environment of Tucson’s Boulevards. Do not expect an acknowledgement if you let someone in to the traffic stream and certainly do not expect anyone to let you in. The first negative experience I had here was approaching Main, as I headed west on Speedway. There are white arrows on the road which point from right to left, in order to warn you that 2 lanes are about to merge into a right turn only one. I was not expecting it and was fractionally late in putting my left turn signal on and moving left. Consequently, I was shut out and at least 8 cars willfully blocked me. I tooted my horn at one of them, which sped up significantly to do so. As I came to a stop at the traffic lights, I saw a muscly, tattooed arm, hanging from the pick-up truck alongside me. The guy leaned over and said slowly and deliberately ‘You were wrong boy.’ I was so gob smacked that I found myself lost for words. If I saw him again, I would simply ask him ‘So, have you never been out of position and reliant on the goodwill of a fellow driver?’ Or maybe I would not.

My first major altercation happened in a Quick Mart Gas station, on the corner of 22nd and 4th. As I came out of the shop, I caught sight of a gorgeous little Chihuahua in the front seat of a bright red sports car. I love teeny, weeny, dogs and was fixated. Within seconds, I saw the driver’s window being opened and a surly bloke was scowling at me. I heard the word ‘disgusting’. I took 2 or 3 paces towards the car and asked him if he was talking to me. Before I knew it, the door was swung open and a tall, spindly guy was mouthing off at me. Something to do with me drooling over his girlfriend. It was only then that I looked over his shoulder and saw a very hot blonde in the passenger’s seat, and the Chihuahua next to her. He moved very close to me and I was sure he was going to hit me. As I spluttered something about him having the wrong end of the stick, he backed off and got in to his car.

Red light running, drivers on the phone and women doing their make-up at traffic lights are universal phenomena. All seem to me to be even more common in Tucson than in London. There are certainly many more darkened car windows and huge mobile homes here than in England. I reckon those Winnebagos are bigger than half the homes in my country. Do the supermarkets charge them when they park up for weeks on end?
Road rage is different here. In London, people toot their horns, get out of their cars for a fight, go red in the face and generally lose control more. But much of it is hot air. In Tucson, I find that there is a silent, but equally dangerous menace. People might screw you but they do so in a decidedly phlegmatic fashion.

The easiest thing was obtaining a driving license in the first place. Having studied the manual, I took advantage of the one-stop shop which the MVD offers here in Tucson. It felt good to get my Arizona driving license at the MVD in South Stocker Drive within hours of applying. I have got to be honest. The practical driving test was pure Mickey Mouse. A three-point turn into some traffic cones, 5 minutes on the road, a couple of left turns and 3 right ones, is all it took.

But just when you think you have got things under control, you get bitten, badly. I parked facing the wrong way on North First and Speedway, and got hit with a $150 fine. The small print on the ticket revealed an array of nasty little laws contained within the City of Tucson Parking Code. A fine of $150 for parking within 30 feet of an intersection or for parking in an alley or within 10 feet of an alley entrance and a fine of $518 for parking in a cross hatched access aisle next to a disabled space.

Never having seen as many accidents in my home city of 15 million people as I have in Tucson, I checked out the statistics on the Tucson Police Department Web Site. In 2006, there were almost 17,000 reported accidents, 4,300 odd of which resulted in injuries and 58 in fatalities. If anything will shake me out of my complacency, these numbers will.

YOU ARE WRONG ON IRAN HUGO

OPEN LETTER TO HUGO CHAVEZ:

Dear Hugo

Let me say straight away, (at grave risk of being labelled sycophantic but I care not), that you are one of my heroes. Your charisma is unparalleled in 21st century world politics.

Every time I hear the European or American bourgeoisie moaning about your alleged abuses of power and how dangerous you are, I know that you are on the right track.

And no one can accuse you of being a spin merchant. You put your oil money where your mouth is. You are making serious inroads into poverty in your country and are introducing grass-roots democracy to the Barrios.

Whilst you talk about socialism and your Bolivarian revolution, I cannot see what is so worrisome to capitalists about allocating untilled land to 60,000 peasant families or creating 70,000 cooperatives within development zones. I accept that your desire to see the State oil company assume a controlling interest in multinational oil companies’ Venezuelan ventures, may be perceived as more of a threat, but I am sure the likes of Exxon and Shell will not leave because they will still be making billions of dollars in profits.

Nevertheless, I cannot defend your alliance with Iran and your blossoming friendship with its leader, Mohamed Ahmadinejad. With respect Hugo, you belittle yourself by associating so closely with such a tyrant and you give your detractors free ammunition.

The fact is that Iran is a totalitarian theocracy in which hundreds of thousands of people have been tortured, killed and ‘disappeared’ since the 1979 revolution. When the Mullahs eventually fall, mass graves will be found as they have been in Iraq.

Ahmadinejad himself is a nasty piece of work and used to be an assassin for the Mullahs abroad.

Anti-imperialism is all well and good but you have got Evo and Fidel to support you in that. You do not need Ahmadinejad or any other theocrats.

Please Hugo. Do the right thing and distance yourself right away from the Iranian regime. You can only tarnish yourself by continuing to be seen in public with your fellow Iranian polemicist.