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ISTJC 'XCVI
Ten years later, Hymies was a shadow of his former self. He no longer looked young. He no longer acted young. He no longer felt young. He looked wretched, he felt wretched, he was a persecuted wreck of a man. But as he sat in front of the Rabbi again, the Rabbi could see a soul that had grown and, with the right conditions, which would one day flower. Had he asked Hymies if he wanted to flower, at the price being asked. The answer may not have been wholly in the affirmative.
"The traffic problems in Oxford are terrible." he bemoaned; without a trace of blame for the advice he had taken and followed - dare we say - religiously.
"Everybody complains more than they ever did before. There is nowhere to cycle, nowhere to walk that's free from the cars. Huge snorting European sized lorries lumber through the narrow streets, stinking of diesel fumes. Even bigger buses queue in endless lines to get up the High Street. Every side street is blocked by badly parked cars and motor bikes. The noise is awful. The air is awful. The journey times are twice as long as ten years ago. And everybody has a car. And they use them for tiny journeys. They're unfit, off work sick all the time. Their children have asthma and the fumes are eating away the Colleges' walls. And they all blame me. I'm a failure. A laughing stock in my own city. It is terrible, terrible." he moaned - and nearly wept. But Hymies hung on. He would not weep yet.
The Rabbi, jet lagged as he was having just returned from the new State of Israel where he had spent a rugged week on his brother's uncle's son's fruit-growing Kibbutz on the borders of wild desert lands, was nevertheless eagle eyed in his attention. His eyes, even sharper than ten years earlier watched carefully. He saw the universe swirling in Hymies’ soul; which became the centre of that universe. He put up a solicitous hand to his less old than he was friend and told him that it would all get better - quite soon, but not until he had taken more action.
"Hymies. You have done well. You have followed my advice perfectly. All will be well, in God's good time. What you must do now is this. The City bus service needs to be thrown open to free competition. Companies will give cheaper fares with single manned buses. Let the free markets rage through Oxford. Make Cornmarket the main shopping area, a pedestrian only zone - but let in the cheap private buses to ferry the good citizens from shop door to home. Hire teams of grim faced, merciless traffic wardens to levy crippling fines on illegally parked vehicles. Say you will create bicycle lanes - but on no account do that. Create bewildering one-way systems in the city centre, make them mazes which would phase the Minotaur. Build a multi-lane highway right around the city at huge expense and make sure it is linked to the national motorway network. Encourage out-of-town shopping at dozens of sites on the ring road. Fit all official vehicles with nerve shattering sirens so they can beat their way rapidly though the densest traffic. Continue to ignore the railway that has a route, largely unused, straight into the heart of the city. And ignore the wonderful canal that used to carry millions of tons of goods to the centre. Now go and get on with it, Hymies; and may God go with you."
Hymies, tired but unbowed, thanked the Rabbi and sallied forth to do more battle.
End of Part 2