That red robot

 The trouble with Cape Town's highways is that they inevitably end in a red robot. A desperate attempt to outsmart the self-imposed traffic cops who defiantly hog the right lane with the view that nobody is allowed to go faster than they are at the regulation speed limit will always result in the cringe-inducing sight of the offending vehicle creeping up behind you as you wait for the robot to change to green. Many years' experience of this scenario acting itself out has resulted in a much more relaxed approach to the time it takes to get there, wherever that may be, and to enjoy the journey rather than the destination. 

And so it was that I found myself heading up Wynberg Hill towards the infamous sign where you had to reduce your speed from 100 to 80 as you rounded the uphill bend. A scarlet VW Golf with the requisite mag wheels, lowered suspension and spoilers had appeared out of nowhere behind me, and as the traffic was already closing up and spaces becoming less likely to fit a BMW and two Audis, I figured there was no need for me to pull over even though I was doing 80. Perhaps there was a fire at home, but he shot past and cut in front of me with centimetres to spare - if his car was not a hatchback, I would have been ridden into the ditch by the boot. And he couldn't get past the car in front of me. See you at the robot.

Sure enough, I eased up behind him at the red robot, but he got through the green and I waited for the next change. At the bottom of the hill, he saw me in his rear-view mirror as he waited to turn right. Aha! Same route as me. This time he went through the red light and I waited for the next change. I somehow knew we wouldn't be parted for long, and there he was waiting for me at the Bowwood Rd robots. Red. He was first in line, and as the light changed to green, he wheelspun away, reducing the life of his low-profile radials and disappeared in the distance. I followed sedately in my sedan and crept up behind him at the Cavendish turnoff. 

By now he must have been beside himself at not being able to shake off an old woman in a car that looked like an Uber, and he screeched through the lights and roared off, doing at least 80 in a busy commercial area. I crept up behind him at the red robot.

He gave up then and turned right while I went straight. My usual parking space was available and I eased up onto the pavement outside the shop where I was picking up an item. Such convenience and nary a traffic cop in sight.

The whole episode, while very entertaining, was a useful reminder that exceeding the speed limit is very unlikely to save more than 3 minutes on any given trip. So no need for tailgating, cutting in and wheelspinning away. That red robot will get you every time.