Cars are the real inhabitants of our cities

I have come to realise just how much Sydney is ruled by the car. B wants to move out of our duplex, tired of the loud Arabic music and swearing that come through our wall late at night and of neighbours with far too many cars. We were looking at a new development down the road in Barden Ridge. Half of it already has houses, the rest is yet to be cleared.

It was dead. But for one family playing with remote control cars and electric ride-on toy vehicles on the road there was no life in around the new houses. In the background I could hear the distant sound of trailbikes in the surrounding bush. Apart from those sounds, and the odd jet flying overhead, it was silent. Spookily so.

In the little community, segregated off from the rest of the suburb, there is a tennis court, an oval, but no shops or services. None. Want a carton of milk? Drive. Bread? Drive. Feeling peckish? Drive. Sure the nearest shops, restaurants and schools are only ten minutes away, but that’s by car. No wonder the suburb is so quiet. Everybody is out driving.

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