Dancing Around the Four Sides

Driving on the left side of the road was easier than I expected it to be. Sitting on the right side of the car, staying to the left of the road was natural and I didn't have any relation to target the wrong side in a turn. Remembering that the turn signal was to the right of the steering wheel took conscious effort though, so there was a lot of unnecessary windshield wiping. Sitting in the passenger seat on the left side of the car didn't evoke "I should be driving" reflexes, but did provide the useful service of warning the driver about the edge of the road, since many South African highways have narrower lanes than the American standard, and shoulders are a luxury.

I found that one out the hard way on a pass into the Great Karoo. In the wind I pulled over for incoming traffic and quickly heard the tire hit dirt. I steered back onto the pavement and heard the thumps of a flat tire. When we pulled the wheel off we found not only had the jagged eroded edge of the asphalt punctured the tire, but the impact had also crushed the rim. Fortunately our destination of Graaf-Rienet is the biggest town in the Karoo, a region famous for eating tires. The Toyota dealership was able to order a rim for next-day delivery and one of several tire shops had the size in stock.

South Africa is a car country, but it's also a walking country. Given its level of development I'd expected to see a lot of mororbikes, recalling memories of "whole family on a scooter" from China and Central America. But other than ubiquitous delivery guys with boxes on the back in Cape Town, I only saw two motorcyclists; one was performing the impressive feat of carrying a surf board. Bicycles also seemed limited to exercise rather than commuting, though given the state of the shoulders and sidewalks I don't blame folks for not biking.

Despite the dominance of cars, South Africa is not yet a place where everyone can afford a car, and society hasn't built in the assumption that everyone's got one. 15-passenger white vans (kombis) are ubiquitous. Folks stand at the side of the highway, hitchhking with a 50 Rand bill in their hand: hoping to get a ride from anyone, white van or not. Cape Town is full of Uber drivers, almost never more than two minutes away in the busy part of town. Our fastest pickup was an Uber parked across the street from our coffee shop. There's also a lot of walking in South Africa. Many places have a formal town (probably whites-only during apartheid) where most of the jobs are, and a township or informal settlement down the road. Township residents walk the mile or two each way to work. Pedestrians also have a sense of entitlement, waking part way into the street despite oncoming traffic and making casual crossings in traffic that would be dangerous in most American cities.

Another unique feature of South African car culture is the parking attendants. Small parking lots and even single city blocks have people standing by, pointing drivers to an open spot and helping them back out, hoping for a tip. Some will even wash your car for you, though with full-service gas stations everywhere I've never had a cleaner windshield. I think the attendants' main value is serving as a deterrent against break-ins, and it wasn't clear to me if they're officially organized or if they just buy a high-vis vest and claim a block.

Other pieces of car culture familiar to Americans were missing. Bumper stickers don't seem to be a thing. I only heard two cars bumping big stereo systems, and flashy mods were totally absent. Kombi vans didn't have any personalization or decoration, a disappointment for anyone who enjoyed taking a bus in Latin America. This lack of flash in autos might be due to high theft rates: a Cape Town ham told me someone broke his window to steal a Baofeng radio on the passenger seat, a $25 value. In America the joke would be that someone left a Baofeng on the seat and came back to a smashed window … and a second Baofeng.