/pol/ - International /Pol/itics & /Bant/er

For years, I lived in darkness. I was contained by the car. Windows up. Air conditioning on. Alone.
Disconnected from man.
Then one day, my Ford Focus gave up outside Peckham Lidl. Breakdown? No. Breakthrough. That's when l entered the enlightened world of walkable city of London created by the visionary Mayor Sadiq Khan himself.
First stop: the 453 bus. A rolling temple of human connection. Forty-three strangers packed tighter than a reduced section meal deal. Somewhere behind me, drill music blasting. Somewhere in front… her..
It was her, the Hay Fever Lady. Tissues long surrendered. Sneezing into the air like a living sprinkler system. I caught at least three direct hits, neck, ear, back of the head. A full baptism. I wish I had cabbage luck in a world of Lizz Truss'
Two days later, I couldn't breathe. Fever, chills, hallucinating Greggs meal deals and vegan sausage rolls, the horrors. I rang the GP. Naturally: "Earliest appointment? Eighteen months." Perfect. Just in time to walk from the South to Scotland, upon return l'd finally reach my NHS appointment.
Thatcherite level efficiency and still faster than HS2.
Truly I must say we do not need cars when your healthcare system runs on the same schedule as my cross-country pilgrimage.
But the real enlightenment came later. Mid-afternoon, Northern Line to Euston Sq. Packed as always. That's when I saw him. Full trousers ruined.
And no one reacted. Entire carriage, Stoics of Britian. Staring ahead like it wasn't happening but a man commences his shat, the result is huge and more shits were given than TfL gives about maintaining the tube.
That's when I realised: cars shield you from life.
From shared culture. From the rich tapestry of human experience.
Now I carry six Aldi bags home in the rain, Tesco fleece soaked through, fingers purple from the weight. Spine bent like a Zone 2 back alley. My calves could crush an Uber.
At first, I missed my car. But now I understand: Why drive when I can enjoy the rich aroma of sweat, Lynx Africa, and damp fried chicken wrappers? Why stay stuck in traffic when I can hear five phone alarms and a family argument in Spanish?
Thank you, r/fuckcars You've saved me. Cars are finished. Human Herd immunity is the future. And Remember to text British Transport police on 61016.
See it. Say it. Sorted.