I’d like to preface this one by saying a huge thank you to my first paid subscriber. I often feel like a lost astronaut, floating through the great beyond and getting spit on my visor as I grumble about gig tickets or whinge about forgetting peoples’ names. But anyway, thank you so much. It’s a first step to getting paid to do the thing I love and your support is invaluable. I will endeavour to be more consistent and get these posts out weekly.
Now I’d like to talk about something really important. The second lane on a dual carriageway.
Bear with me.
While driving from Southbroom to Morgan’s Bay, a particularly gruelling 8-hour stretch with innumerable stop-and-gos, dicey townships and dead dogs in the road, Ellie turned to me and said ‘I’m not being funny, but it’s like you’re addicted to overtaking’.
I laughed at her. Ridiculous, I thought. Addicted to overtaking. Yeah, right.
Seconds later, I edged to right of the lorry in front, spotted a gap and raced around into the open road ahead. Content for a moment, I turned to her and she raised her eyebrows.
Maybe I am addicted to overtaking. But why? Well, Africa has changed me somewhat. Not in the ‘I’ve found myself’ kind of way. More in a ‘life’s cheap’ kind of way.
But I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s down to the second lane of the dual carriageway. It invites overtaking. It’s there, waiting for you to slide in and slip past the van, lorry or trundling Suzuki not-so-Swift in the first lane. It’s almost seductive.
I don’t think it’s just me. There’s something about the opportunity to overtake that dangles itself like bait, waiting for you to snatch at it with giddy impatience. To observe overtaking through a Foucauldian lens, some might say it’s about power and control. The second lane provides a tool of control. You can control your own destiny by overtaking and you feel subjugated by being overtaken, therefore the desire to overtake is felt more strongly than the acceptance of being overtaken.
But why do we feel subjugated by being overtaken? I’m not sure, but we do. A recent study found that 22% of us feel insulted by being overtaken. It might be interesting to see the gender split of those asks, as I think that could reveal something.
The insult is quite clear. We literally experience someone stepping out, racing past us and speeding into the horizon. To anybody who has an ounce of competitiveness, this feels awful. It feels like being overtaken in a race. It feels like somebody exercising their power over you. It’s a challenge to your manhood, your masculinity, your agency.
I know that there are many men and women who can ignore being overtaken. I’ve witnessed it, perplexed at their ease. Flabbergasted at their ability to allow a car to pass them and the lorry in front without even joining the overtaker in their folly. Instinctively, I want to take up arms with the overtaker. I want to get involved and ride with them into the sunset.
Now, I know this is ridiculous. I know that I can simply ignore it. The rational person accepts that you may be on very different journeys, in different vehicles and that the whims of the overtaker have no bearing on your journey.
I am not a rational person.
I am competitive and impatient and I will aways want to get to a destination as quickly as possible. I have a lot to learn and the virtue of patience is absolutely one of them.
However, no matter how patient I become, I will always find glory in overtaking.*
*This is specifically about overtaking on long, straight dual carriageways - not quiet, bendy British country lanes.