The prolific Chinese traffic monster rears its ugly head once more. The behemoth gridlock has regenerated after a record 60-mile long traffic was just cleared last week from the motorway outside of Beijing, according to reports from BBC and other news outlets. This one gives the former champ a run for its money, measuring in at an impressive length of 75 miles or so. Nobody is running, though. They are neither jogging nor trotting. Hell, they aren’t even crawling. They’re standing still.
The diesel-belching amalgamation, compromised mainly of coal-hauling trucks destined for the capital, must look from the sky to be a steel millipede. In my mind, this type of traffic jam has a kind of organic quality. I picture a seething, breathing steel creature, akin to a dragon—fitting for the Chinese setting.
Academics have weighed in on the possible causes for such traffic problems. A large portion of blame rests on the near-constant construction. But then again, the roads here in China are not nearly as cohesive as the roadways in developed countries round the world. The major thoroughfares that link mega-cities like Beijing to the surrounding provinces aren’t part of a unified system of highways. Each province or autonomous region, like Beijing for example, maintains their own roads. So like many things here, the right hand has no clue what the left hand is doing.
The traffic jams are just one symptom of China’s self-prophesized and long-awaited goal of returning to a status of international paramount. The rabid pace of development demands huge amounts of resources, and as we see now the infrastructure can’t keep up with the demand.
I don’t envy these truckers, though, that much is certain. Most of the trucks probably look like this. Forget about a cozy, air-conditioned sleeper cab like motorists in the USA or elsewhere are accustomed to seeing along the highways. Just to get a respite, the drivers have to exit their vehicles and lounge by the roadside. At least they get to enjoy the splendid mysteries of the waning summer amidst the placid Mongolian grasslands.
I wonder if, over the course of time, roadside enterprises will capitalize on the jams. Vendors could make a pretty penny hocking chilled beverages and assorted munchies to the stranded drivers, because these latest two traffic jams are doubtless a harbinger of future incidents. They would be a welcome economy, I think. Much more civil than the disgruntled motorists could do for themselves at the onset of such unprecedented traffic clogs. I picture harried and twitching drivers scrambling for potable water, maybe even siphoning precious fluids from the engines or compartments that they’re hauling. Prices for essentials like water and food would inflate enormously. Imagine: after the coal company’s driver has already spent the last of his gas money on a half-eaten chicken kabob, now he has to face the indignity of scrounging everywhere in his truck’s cab for loose change, just so he can buy an umbrella or tarp to shade him from the high sun.
Madness is the greatest concern now. How does one fend it off?
And here are the words we’re left with, spoken by an aptly named individual:
The BBC’s Martin Patience: “The highway is now just a car park”
No doubt he’s the right man to be on the scene. If anyone has the wherewithal to wait out such monstrous gridlock, it’s a man with the surname Patience.
Rory Keane is an American-born teacher and writer who has logged nearly two years in China, and is working on another year-long stint in the Middle Kingdom. He writes about travel, sociopolitical issues, health, entertainment, and culture, among other topics.
