There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather live than Toronto.
Most of my acquaintances and I have run similar numbers to The Economist and the math works out very well in the 6ix.
If you’re thinking of moving here, I’ve already told you 20 things you should know before taking the leap. But if I had to add a twenty first, it would simply be, “You’ll love it.”
Until you drive here.
Driving in Toronto is not an exercise in transportation; it’s an exercise in restraint. From murder.
Few things are more infuriating than driving around this otherwise impeccable city and below are the key culprits. If you can do anything to help, please do. If not, please just join me in a collective head-shake and hop aboard my rant. I promise, it won’t be as painful as our taxis.
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Our F***ing Taxis
First things first: Uber is better, you lost, stop whining, fix your problems, or go away. Second of all, cabs in this city are reason enough to implement a speed minimum on core arteries. Especially King Street. New rule: For every one time a cab suddenly brakes in the middle of a busy street because some guy with his back turned on the balcony of an apartment 40 yards down an alley might look like he needs an expensive ride from a stranger, I get to slash one tire.
The Absurd Light Sequencing
If I’m driving the speed limit down a major street and I can’t be in forward motion for more than twenty seconds without hitting a red light, someone needs to get fired. And I swear I’ve missed advanced greens because I sneezed. STOP MAKING US STOP SO MUCH.
Streetcars
Have you ever been driving north of the city and all of a sudden you have to slow down because there’s a moose chewing a pine cone in the middle of the highway? Ya, that’s streetcars. Except moose don’t need someone to jerry-rig an intersection with a f***ing broom to make a right turn. Speaking of which…
Right Turns
Right Turns are the new Left Turn. Remember back in the day when you’d see a car signaling left at the upcoming intersection and all you had to do was shimmy into the right lane and poof!, you were through the intersection? Well those days are dead. Between buses, gobs of pedestrians, cyclists, catch-me-if-you-can light sequencing, and award-winning parents that rest their fully occupied strollers right on the corner of the sidewalk, Toronto’s right lanes are just as likely to jam you up at an intersection as its lefts. At this point, when I’m lined up at a light, I just straddle both lanes and take a nap on the horn.
The Cyclists
Most cyclists in this city are great, but the ones that are terrible – and there are enough of them – ruin it for everyone. It’s usually some hipster-esque brat in corduroys juggling an organic watermelon and a boombox on their fixie while they no-hand it seven feet from the curb (sans helmet of course). I’m so glad they’re so pleased with themselves, but they are obstructing a broader traffic efficiency. If the bicycle bravado in this city went down a few notches, I’d be much more inclined to focus on the other half of the problem…
The Astronomically High Percentage of Dogs**t Drivers
I don’t care what stats you throw at me. Speeding is not the problem. Parking is not the problem. Volume is not the problem. The problem is that people I wouldn’t trust with a rocking chair have been permitted to operate cars without the supervision of a taser. Enough with the tickets for left turns at 3:36pm and hunting down HOV bandits. If just once the following conversation happened, we’d all be in a better place:
Officer: “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Driver: “No, was I speeding?”
Officer: “God, I wish. No. I pulled you over because you’re the sh**iest driver I’ve ever seen and if I let you continue, between your fear of yellow lights, your refusal to signal until you’re already making the turn, your total obliviousness to the actual width of your car, your inability to press the gas pedal within 3 seconds of a light turning green, and your total disregard for the existence of cyclists, you will cause twenty-six minutes of unnecessary congestion and ruin at least three hundred people’s day – maybe even their lives – before you arrive at your destination.”
Driver: “Wow. I didn’t re-…”
Officer: “Shut up, I already called the tow truck.”
Marathons
Marathons, also known in Toronto as, “Sunday”, are great for raising money and everyone’s blood pressure. If Spain can handle a bunch of painters sprinting through a herd of angry bulls then surely Toronto marathoners can find a way to jog around a few Hondas.
The Joke That is Parking
First, if you’re looking for street parking after 11am, you’re more likely to find Narnia. Then, even if you do find something, the new zero-tolerance ticket-and-tow mandate makes it more stressful than its worth (I’m convinced Toronto parking cops hide in my trunk). Between that and downtown lots that charge six pints of blood per hour, it’s not uncommon for the parking to cost more than the actual driving in this city.
Fault-Lines and Canyons
I refuse to call them “potholes” or “cracks”. That’s like calling Charlie Sheen “tipsy”. It’s one thing to suffer road damage because of extreme weather, but it’s quite another to have your city’s major streets look like they were struck by a f***ing asteroid. That may be cool for skiing or filming movies that take place on Mars, but not for driving. It’s funny though, you’d think with all the construction…
The Construction
I can’t…I just…I can’t. The Bobs said it best…
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