Traffic in the Centre of the Universe is maddening
Toronto always wanted to be New York and, on its busy roads, it has succeeded
The next Calgary driver who complains about traffic congestion — Marda Loop comes to mind — needs to be forcibly deported to the Centre of the Universe.
Here in downtown Toronto, traffic is chaotic at a minimum. Granted, Canada's busiest and largest city (population 2.9 million, rising to 6.3 million in the Greater Toronto Area) insists traffic congestion is, in a word, “improving.”
Maybe that hopeful statement comes as a hurtful response to Toronto having the distinction of being identified as having the worst traffic in North America. There is also the further embarrassment showing Toronto is exceeded only by London, England, and Dublin, Ireland, as the most congested city in the world. Add to that further news that commuters in Toronto and area will spend 63 hours per year idling in traffic.
If crawling cars and speeding e-scooters and bicycles all trying to get to the next traffic signal without encountering a surprise parade (which we did) counts as an improvement, maybe.
But a weekend visitor in downtown Toronto confronted with construction blockades, narrowed lanes and riders on bicycles and scooters darting in and out of traffic doesn't see it as much of anything to brag about. It's like the Wild West of dime novels, only east and with cars instead of horses.
It has been more than 40 years since I have had to regularly drive the Gardiner Expressway or clamber aboard the GO train and subway to get to a downtown office, which I shared with the late and legendary sports writer Jim Coleman. Maybe I'm biased. After all, even back then, the Don Valley Parkway was sarcastically referred to as the Don Valley parking lot.
What is surprising is that there have been “only” five cycling deaths on the city's crowded streets this year. If there are laws about the usage of roads — and there most certainly are — it looks as if nobody cares and/or nobody does anything.
Perhaps keeping the roads in Toronto safe and moving isn't a priority with city hall or maybe there is just so much rampant disregard that the city has thrown its proverbial hands in the air and shouted: “Let the carnage begin.” It's sort of like Imperial Rome's bread and circuses. Give people food and spectacle, and they won't complain.
When I last lived in Toronto, jaywalking was a civic sport. Only the faint of heart went to the intersection or the nearest traffic light. Toronto has always wanted to be New York and, on its roads, it has succeeded.
I was stunned when I returned to Calgary to discover police would actually issue tickets for such behaviour, although the one time I was stopped after crossing in the middle of a busy street, all I got was a lecture about road safety. Another street safety lesson: If you are in Toronto and stop for a pedestrian, you will be car-horned until you go deaf. (Only a slight exaggeration.)
Michael Foran wrote This Is My Worst in 1955 with tongue firmly in cheek and jest in his heart. Two lines, a single poem, remains fixed in my memory: “Only God could make Toronto/only God, indeed, would want to.”
As an aside, there is a more personal problem in being in Toronto. My last name is Ford. Throughout the past few years, every trip to Toronto has resulted in raised eyebrows and probing questions, the sharpness of which depends on the political leanings of the person asking.
The answer always has been succinct: “No, I am not related to Ontario's premier.” Pause for effect: “Or his late brother.”