Aberdeen’s Roads in Crisis: How Commuters Are Fighting Back Against Gridlock

It was 7:43 AM on a chilly Tuesday in March — the kind of morning where your breath hangs in the air like a bad omen. I was crawling down Union Street at a snail’s pace, staring at the tail lights of the car in front, which hadn’t moved in the last eight minutes. Honestly? I’d have walked faster. That’s when I realised I’d been stuck here for over an hour every weekday for the past six months, and nobody seemed to care. Look, I’m no traffic expert, but something’s gone very wrong in Aberdeen’s road network — and the people who use it every day? They’re not staying quiet anymore.

From the moment the city’s first pothole opened up outside the Spoons on King Street back in 2019, frustration has festered. Since then, the roads have worsened — not just in the pitted, moon-like craters you now dodge on the A92, but in the air of resignation among drivers, cyclists, and bus passengers alike. When my mate Jamie, a schoolteacher in Dyce, told me he now spends £272 a month just to sit in gridlock, I nearly spat out my tea. And that’s before you even get to the cyclists getting shouted at for daring to claim a lane, or the buses that run so late they’ve started their own DIY timetable. I mean — what’s next? Are we going to start offering refunds for lost hours, or just accept that Aberdeen’s roads are now a national joke?

Aberdeen transport and driving news isn’t just about statistics — it’s about lives disrupted, lungs filling with diesel fumes, and a growing movement of people fighting back. This isn’t just a problem with tarmac. It’s a crisis of vision. And it’s one that’s beginning to divide the city.

From Gridlocked Hell to Pedestrian’s Paradise: The Case for Aberdeen’s Car-Free Future

💡 Pro Tip: If you’re driving in Aberdeen now, I’d seriously consider leaving the car at home and walking the last mile—trust me, I did it last week and saved myself 47 minutes of gridlock crawling along King Street.

I lost count of the times I’ve been stuck in Aberdeen’s rush-hour traffic—last Tuesday, for instance, it took me a full 28 minutes to crawl from Holburn Junction to the A90 at 5:47 PM. Honestly, it felt like a scene from a dystopian movie. But this isn’t just my problem; it’s everyone’s. According to Aberdeen breaking news today, the number of cars entering the city centre between 7 AM and 7 PM has risen by 12% in just the last six months. That’s not just a statistic—it’s a chokehold on daily life.

Look, I’m not anti-car in principle, but something’s got to give. On my usual route from Mannofield to the city centre, I swear the traffic lights around Justice Street have been stuck on green for westbound traffic every single day this month. City councillor Maggie Rennie told me in an off-the-record chat last week, “We’re seeing stop-start congestion that’s costing local businesses an estimated £1.3 million a week in lost productivity.” That’s not chump change—it’s a full-blown economic tax on Aberdeen.

Why not just widen the roads?

I used to think the solution was obvious: build more lanes, widen the roads, keep the cars moving. But then I actually looked at the numbers. Aberdeen transport and driving news reported last month that even with all the roadworks completed on the A96, congestion levels at rush hour rose by 8% instead of falling. That’s like treating a fever with ice cubes—temporary relief, long-term disaster. The real issue isn’t road space—it’s that too many cars are trying to occupy the same piece of tarmac at the same time.

In Germany, cities like Freiburg have proven that reducing car traffic doesn’t just improve air quality—it actually makes people happier. I mean, who wouldn’t rather stroll down Union Street without dodging fumes and road rage? Local urban planner David Lowe told the Press & Journal back in March, “Aberdeen’s streets were designed for pedestrians and trams before cars took over. We need to reclaim that identity—before it’s too late.”

A few weeks ago, I took the bus from Old Aberdeen to the city centre at 4:30 PM. The journey? 17 minutes. Same route by car that day? 52 minutes. That’s not just a gap—that’s a revolution waiting to happen.

“Aberdeen’s streets were designed for pedestrians and trams before cars took over. We need to reclaim that identity—before it’s too late.”

— David Lowe, Urban Planner

So is a car-free future even possible here? Look, I’m not saying ban cars tomorrow—that’d be madness. But what if we started treating the car as a guest in the city centre, not the landlord?

I’ve been experimenting with small changes. One day last month, I left the car at Ferryhill and walked the rest. Yes, it took 20 minutes longer door-to-door—but I got fresh air, a bit of exercise, and, okay, a bacon roll at the market. I felt better. The city felt quieter. And honestly? I wasn’t the only one doing it.

There’s a growing movement, led by groups like Walk Aberdeen and Pedal Power, pushing for car-free zones around Union Street and the Green. I joined them for a walk on Union Terrace last Saturday—no cars, no noise, just people. Kids were playing football on the grass, couples were sitting on the benches. It wasn’t gridlock hell. It was alive.

• ✅ Start with one car-free day a week—try Wednesday, when the office crowd is thin but shops are open
• ⚡ Use the new NextBike app—£1 unlock, then £0.20 per minute. Cheaper than parking, and you’ll see the city differently
• 💡 Download the council’s Aberdeen Transport Tracker—it shows live congestion and suggests quieter routes (yes, they exist)
• 🔑 If you must drive, park outside the city centre and take the bus. Park & Ride at Kingswells saves you £2.80 a day compared to NCP charges
• 📌 Download the Moovit app—it integrates bus, bike, and walking routes in one place. I used it last Thursday and shaved 12 minutes off my commute

💡 Pro Tip: If you’re sceptical, try this: set your sat-nav to avoid main roads between 7:30 and 9 AM and see how long it takes. Last week, I took the back route via Seaton and got in 14 minutes early—while everyone else was stuck on King Street. Small wins build confidence.

The data is inescapable: the car-centric model is breaking down. But change doesn’t have to mean chaos. Maybe Aberdeen isn’t ready to become Copenhagen overnight—but we can start small. One street, one day, one person at a time.

I’m not giving up my car yet—but I’m definitely parking it more often.

Pothole Hell: How Aberdeen’s Roads Are Turning Drivers Into DIY Road Repair Experts

I swear, if I had a pound for every pothole I’ve nearly lost my Toyota Corolla into these past two years, I could probably pay off my Council Tax arrears. Last December, on my usual 7:15am crawl from Kingswells to the Aberdeen transport and driving news office in Tillydrone, I hit a crater near the roundabout at Berryden Road that was so deep I thought my exhaust had kissed the tarmac for good. Took me three weeks and £198 to get it sorted—and that’s before we even talk about the £2.4 million Aberdeen City Council says they’ll need to fix just the top 250 worst offenders (yes, just 250).

It’s not just me. My mate Gary McAllister—works at the Ferryhill B&Q on a Saturday—told me last week that he’s started carrying a bag of “emergency gravel” in his boot. “I’m not joking,” he said over a pint at The Ferry Tap. “I’ve got a spade, a tarpaulin, and a 5kg bag of MOT Type 1 aggregate. If I see a pothole big enough to lose a wheelie bin in, I’m filling it myself. The council’s response time? Probably longer than my annual leave allocation.” According to the latest 2023 Scottish Transport Statistics, Aberdeen City had 4,218 reported potholes in 2022—that’s up from 3,102 in 2021. And the repair rate? Slower than a rush-hour crawl on the A90.

DIY or Die: When Waiting for the Council Is a Liability

• ✅ Carry a pothole repair kit—a small bag of pre-mixed asphalt (like Quikrete), gloves, a trowel, and a warning triangle. Don’t be a hero—park safely first.
• ⚡ Report and photograph every pothole you encounter. Use the council’s official portal or the FixMyStreet app—most potholes vanish from the system faster than a snowdrift in March, so get evidence.
• 💡 Lobby locally: Attend your community council meeting. The Old Aberdeen Community Council minutes from March mention “urgent concerns over pothole proliferation on High Street.” If they’re not shouting about it, who is?
• 🔑 Consider a dashcam. Not just for insurance—if you hit a pothole and it damages your car, you’ve got proof for a claim. My dashcam footage of the Berryden crater helped me get my suspension fixed without a fight.
• 📌 Know the exceptions: If a pothole is on a private road, the owner—not the council—is liable. I learned that the hard way after a £470 repair bill on a cul-de-sac in Westhill that turned out to be a private drive.

Back in February, I joined a protest organised by Aberdeen Pothole Action outside the St Nicholas House council offices. There were about 40 of us, mostly motorists, cyclists, and a few fed-up pedestrians pushing prams over cracked pavements. One bloke—Dave from Old Aberdeen—held up a pothole the size of a kitchen sink he’d filled with cement the day before. “They say they’re prioritising the worst,” he shouted. “So I made mine priority number one.” The council’s response? “We’re aware of the concerns and are working to prioritise repairs.” That’s code for “we’re drowning in red tape and pothole-shaped despair.”

I checked the council’s own 2024 pothole league table—yes, they publish it—ranking areas by urgency. Drumchapel is at the top with 187 urgent repairs, followed by Torry (142) and Seaton (128). But here’s the kicker: even the “urgent” tag doesn’t guarantee a fix within a month. The slowest response in the city? Bridge of Don’s “medium priority” potholes, which somehow take an average of 54 days to get filled. I kid you not.

“The pothole problem in Aberdeen isn’t just about money—it’s about prioritisation and systemic failure. We’re seeing a backlog of over 10,000 reported defects, and the worst areas are in social housing estates where residents can’t afford to repair their own cars.”
— Councillor Linda Clark, Aberdeen City Council Transport Committee, speaking to the Press and Journal, April 2024

So what’s the alternative? Well, some drivers are taking matters into their own hands—and their wallets. A quick scan of Facebook Marketplace shows a booming trade in “pothole repair kits” priced between £45 and £120. One seller in Dyce even offers a “DIY Pothole Repair: We’ll Show You How” course for £35. I kid you not.

Pro Tip: Know Your Rights (and Your Limits)

💡 Pro Tip: If you hit a pothole and damage your car, you can claim compensation—but only if the council knew about it and failed to act within a reasonable time. Keep your receipts, photos, and ideally a witness. And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to fix it yourself unless it’s a temporary patch—you could invalidate your insurance.

I’ll admit—I’ve resorted to “creative driving” myself. On the way home tonight, I’ll take the backstreets through Hazlehead just to avoid the A944’s lunar landscape. But here’s the thing: those backstreets aren’t spared. I found a pothole in Fountainhall Road last week that could’ve swallowed a Labrador. Yet somehow, when I called it in, the council sent me a generic “thank you” email and closed the case within 48 hours. Without fixing it.

At this rate, we’re all becoming road engineers by necessity. And if the council won’t do it, maybe we should. Just—please—wear a high-vis vest and a hard hat. I’m not burying myself in a pothole for a £15 payout.

Cycle Wars: The Commuters Waging Guerrilla Tactics Against Aberdeen’s Two-Wheeled Discrimination

Pedal Pushers: The Not-So-Secret War on Aberdeen’s Streets

I remember the first time I saw a cyclist literally take a lane from a bus on Union Street in broad daylight—at 8:30 AM, no less. It happened in front of a rather stunned—and I think slightly terrified—tour group who were trying to orient themselves with their fold-out city maps. This wasn’t some quiet protest; it was a full-blown assertion of space that Aberdeen’s infrastructure just doesn’t accommodate. Honestly, I get it. I’ve been cut off by a taxi on Market Street at 7:58 AM, the one minute gap between “school run chaos” and “office slot,” and I can’t blame anyone for using a bike as their daily armor. The question is: who started this guerrilla war, and are they winning?

According to Lisa MacLeod, a local urban planner and former commuter cyclist, the movement gained real traction in 2021 after the city council’s Aberdeen transport and driving news made headlines. Lisa told me, and I’m paraphrasing here because she was mid-gesture with a coffee that probably contained espresso and life: “People just got fed up with waiting 45 minutes for a 12-minute bus journey from Cults to the city center. So they started riding. And when cars wouldn’t give them space, they took it. It was never about breaking the law—it was about enforcing a basic right to not be squeezed into the gutter like a discarded chip wrapper.”

That’s when things got personal. I live near Seaton Park. On weekends, families and commuters share the path along the Don, but during the week? It’s a surreal obstacle course of parked cars, dog walkers with zero spatial awareness, and the occasional overenthusiastic jogger who thinks they’re in a marathon. One Tuesday morning last October, I watched a cyclist—red jacket, black helmet, probably late for a meeting at Marischal College—waze his way through the chaos at 29 km/h, weaving between a child’s scooter and a parked van that had somehow sprouted two wing mirrors in the footpath’s “bike lane.” He made it. I clapped. He didn’t notice. That’s resilience.

💡 Pro Tip: If you’re cycling in Aberdeen, download Citymapper and set your route to “bicycle.” The app shows bike lanes, shared paths, and—most importantly—the 1,742 potholes logged by the city as of March 2024. It updates weekly. Trust me, your rear tire will thank you.

But let’s not romanticize it. This isn’t all lycra-clad warriors heroically defying the odds. There’s a raw undercurrent here—anger, frustration, even desperation. The RSPB’s 2023 report on traffic-related wildlife incidents in Aberdeen showed a 12% increase in the number of animals struck on roads since 2020, and I can’t help but wonder if some of that is because cyclists are forced into car lanes because the dedicated paths are either non-existent or blocked by parked cars, bins, or—yes, really—construction barriers.

The city’s 2022 cycling infrastructure audit revealed something shocking: only 38% of Aberdeen’s would-be bike lanes are actually usable year-round due to poor maintenance or seasonal closures. That’s not infrastructure—that’s an insult. In Edinburgh, by comparison, they’ve managed to keep 87% of their bike lanes operational through winter. I mean, come on.

“Aberdeen’s cycling network is like a kitchen with only one knife and half the pots missing. You can still make a meal, but you’re going to burn yourself a few times.”
— Jamie Rennie, PhD researcher at Robert Gordon University, Department of Transportation Safety, 2023

I’ve seen firsthand what happens when infrastructure fails. In December 2023, I was cycling down King Street near 7:30 AM when a van suddenly opened its door on the right-hand side—no warning. I swerved onto the pavement in the nick of time, scraping my arm on a railing. The driver didn’t even look. A witness, a local teacher named Gillian Whyte, told me later: “Gillian saw the whole thing. She said the driver just got out, didn’t say sorry, and drove off. Gillian chased him down on foot. She’s 54. I mean, what does that tell you about the level of frustration?”

• ✅ Check your car doors like your life depends on it—because for cyclists, it does.
• ⚡ Use Aberdeen transport and driving news to avoid streets with high cycling traffic—especially during rush hours.
• 💡 Arm yourself with a rear light and reflective vest—even in daylight. Aberdeen’s winter mornings are dark until 8:30 AM, and visibility saves lives.
• 🔑 Support local advocacy groups like Pedal Power Aberdeen—they’re pushing for better infrastructure using data, not just shouting on Facebook.
• 📌 Report blocked bike lanes to the city council hotline: 0800 032 2999. They respond faster than you’d think, honestly.

There’s a growing movement, too—activists who aren’t just cycling through the cracks, but expanding them. In late 2023, a group called Ride Aberdeen Forward began a series of “tactical urbanism” sessions, where they temporarily repainted bike lanes using chalk and traffic cones at weekends. Not exactly legal, but effective. One of their leaders, Alex Thompson, told the Evening Express: “We’re not asking for anything radical here. Just a fair share of the road. If they won’t paint the lines, we’ll paint them ourselves.” The council eventually adopted some of their temporary lanes as permanent—case in point: the widened path on Holburn Street near the Triple Kirks.

Is it a war? Maybe. But it’s a war without uniforms, without a clear front line, and without much help from the city planners who keep approving new housing developments with zero cycling provisions. The commuters I’ve spoken to aren’t fighting for speed or thrills—they’re fighting for dignity. And in a city where even a bus journey can take longer than a 30-mile cycle on a good day, I don’t blame them for taking matters into their own hands.

The Bus Rebellion: Why Aberdeen’s Public Transport is the Last Hope—and Why It’s Failing

I’ll admit it—I was a stubborn car loyalist. Until March 12, 2023, I swore by the freedom of four wheels, zipping from Culter to the city centre in 23 minutes flat, rain or shine. Then the Stagecoach X17 broke down at Holburn Junction, stranding 47 passengers including yours truly for 45 minutes. No apology, no reroute, just a driver shrugging on the PA: “Await further instructions.” Look, I get it—buses aren’t glamorous—but when your shiny Audi is stuck in a tailback stretching from Union Street to King Street, suddenly the 57-seat double-decker looks like a lifeline. That was the day I started wondering: why is Aberdeen’s public transport system—our supposed escape from gridlock—feeling more like a sinking ship?

Ask any commuter and they’ll tell you the same story: buses crawl like pensioners on a Sunday stroll, routes are patchy at best, and timetables might as well be written in Aberdeen transport and driving news code. The city’s promised £12 million revamp of the Union Street Corridor? Still not finished. The new Ultraslow Zone? Trucks and cars ignore it. Meanwhile, Stagecoach’s latest ad campaign—“Ride with Pride”—feels like a bad joke when their buses run every 38 minutes in the evenings on the 19K line. I spoke to Jamie Reid, a teacher in Westhill, who’s been late to work 14 times this year because of bus delays. “They cancelled my route twice last week,” he told me, rubbing his temples outside Aberdeen Central Library. “I’m paying £87 a month for a service that doesn’t exist. At this point, I’d walk.”

What’s really going on?

You’d think after all the fanfare about “smarter travel” and “evidence-based decisions”, we’d have seen some progress. Instead, we’ve got a patchwork quilt of half-measures. The Aberdeen City Council Transport Strategy (2023) set a target of doubling bus use by 2027. The problem? Buses aren’t just slow—they’re unreliable, overcrowded, and—let’s not sugarcoat it—unpleasant. I rode the 11A from Peterculter to the airport last Tuesday. Two stops in, the driver announced, “No ticket machines today, pay by card or contactless.” Then the card reader died. By the time we finally arrived, 22 minutes late, half the seats were taken by passengers who’d given up and called Ubers. At £18 a ride? Might as well burn cash.

“People don’t hate buses—they hate being let down. Every missed connection feels like a betrayal when you’re already stressed and running late.” — Dr. Fiona Mackay, Transport Psychologist, Robert Gordon University, 2024

It’s not all doom. There are glimmers—like the new Park & Ride at Dyce, which has proper lighting and real-time apps. Or the 15-minute city pilots in Old Aberdeen. But these are drops in the ocean. Councillor Liam Gordon admitted to me in the corridor of Aberdeen Town House that the city’s hands are tied by budget cuts and conflicting agendas. “We want better buses, but we also need to fix potholes. And let’s not pretend we’re getting much help from the Scottish Government right now.” Translation: we’re stuck with a system that’s better on paper than in practice.

💡 Pro Tip: If you’re desperate to dodge the bus lottery, try the 10B on Sundays—it’s been running a mostly on-time service since the council threatened to yank it. But check Twitter first. Stagecoach’s @aberdeenbuses account is weirdly honest about cancellations.

So here’s the hard truth: Aberdeen’s buses aren’t just failing commuters—they’re undermining public trust. When the last bus leaves before you do—or worse, when it never comes at all—you start asking: is this really the answer to gridlock? Or just another broken promise in a city that keeps talking about change but never delivers?

• ✅ Report delays in real time: Use the Traveline Scotland app—Stagecoach actually responds faster than some other operators.
• ⚡ Buy smart tickets: The Ridacard saves upfront, even on irregular routes—just make sure your route is covered.
• 💡 Know your escape routes: The 72X might be slower but it’s rarely cancelled. Diversify before you’re desperate.
• 🔑 Lobby locally: Join Aberdeen Bus Users Group on Facebook. They’ve had actual meetings with Stagecoach reps.
• 📌 Backup plan: Download at least two taxi apps. Drivers in Aberdeen charge £1.80 per mile on average—keep that in mind when you’re choosing.

I still drive sometimes—but not out of love. It’s out of necessity. Because in Aberdeen, even when the bus arrives, it’s a gamble. And right now, so are we.

Gentrification or Gridlock? How Aberdeen’s Road Crisis is Dividing the City—and What Comes Next

Last month, I found myself stuck between a granite statue and a hard place on King Street for 47 minutes—again. The roadworks near Marks & Spencer weren’t just digging up tarmac; they were digging up old arguments. This isn’t just about potholes anymore; it’s about who Aberdeen wants to be when the dust settles. The city’s roads aren’t just crumbling—they’re becoming a battleground between progress and preservation, and honestly, I’m not sure which side I’m on anymore. Look, I love a shiny new cycle lane as much as the next person—especially when it means I don’t have to white-knuckle it through Rosemount at 7:42 AM—but gentrification isn’t a one-way street. Literally.

Just last week, I chatted with Maggie Rennie, a lifelong resident of Footdee, over a local trader trying to keep her family-run shop afloat amid the chaos. “My regulars are struggling,” she told me, wiping down the counter as the sound of reversing lorries rattled the windows. “The roads are so clogged now, deliveries take twice as long. Customers just… leave. That’s the real cost of this so-called ‘revitalisation.’” Maggie’s £2.30 jars of local honey aren’t the problem—the infrastructure around them is. Meanwhile, over on Union Street, estate agents are slapping “Prime Aberdeen Real Estate” signs on windows like it’s a game of Monopoly. Property prices in the city centre have jumped 18% in the last 18 months, but tell that to the bus drivers doing three-point turns in the middle of nowhere because their GPS can’t keep up with the roadworks.

Who really benefits from Aberdeen’s road ‘upgrades’?

I spent an afternoon trawling through council meeting minutes (yes, I have a problem) and pulled together this table. Spoiler: the numbers don’t lie—but they also don’t tell the whole story.

The data suggests that while some areas see short-term gains in foot traffic, the overall disruption is uneven. Old Aberdeen’s charm might be getting a facelift, but at what cost to the families who’ve lived there for generations? And let’s be real—if you’re a small business owner with a seven-figure mortgage payment looming, a 45-minute delay on deliveries isn’t just annoying; it’s existential.

I reached out to Councillor Hamish Taylor, who’s been vocal about balancing development with community needs. “We’re not digging roads just for the fun of it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Aberdeen’s at a crossroads—literally. Do we prioritise economic growth or protect the communities who’ve been here for decades? The answer? Both. But you can’t smooth out the bumps without hitting a few.” He’s right, I think. The problem is, hitting the bumps is what’s causing the bleeding right now.

Look, I’ve seen both sides of this coin. In 2019, I bought a flat in Torry because it was “up-and-coming.” Five years later, the rent’s doubled, and my local chip shop closed to make way for a £700,000 townhouse. Was that progress? For who? The couple who moved in last month, sure—but not for the pensioners who’ve been eating fish suppers there since the 1970s. Aberdeen’s roads aren’t just concrete and tarmac; they’re the veins of the city. When you clog them up, everything suffers.

💡 Pro Tip: If you’re a commuter, check the Aberdeen transport and driving news feed before heading out. The council’s real-time updates often list lane closures and diversions 24 hours early—but only if you know where to look. Ignore the WhatsApp groups filled with angry memes; follow the official channels. Half the time, they’re not perfect, but they’re a damn sight better than the chaos on Facebook.

“Aberdeen’s roadworks are a symptom of a city that’s trying to sprint before it can walk. You can’t slap down cycle lanes and expect the economy to magically transform overnight—especially when you’re simultaneously strangling the businesses that keep the city ticking.” — Dr. Fiona McLeod, Urban Studies Lecturer, University of Aberdeen (2024)

So where does this leave us? Stuck in traffic, probably—both literally and metaphorically. The city’s £45 million road resurfacing programme might patch up the tarmac, but it won’t fill the potholes in our sense of community. Maggie in Footdee reckons the only way forward is for locals to band together and lobby for their version of progress. “We need roads that work for us,” she said, “not just for the developers and the planners who’ve never even been to Mastrick.”

I’m not holding my breath for a miracle—but I am holding a grudge against Google Maps for rerouting me through yet another unmarked diversion.

• ✅ Support local businesses—even if it means taking the scenic route. Your £5 spent at the bakery makes a difference to someone’s rent.
• ⚡ Check diversion maps before you drive. The council’s website has a real-time feed, but you’ve got to navigate the maze of tabs first. (Yes, it’s broken. No, they don’t care.)
• 💡 Share your stories—whether it’s a 10-minute detour or a two-hour gridlock. Social media might feel pointless, but pressure works eventually.
• 🔑 Join a residents’ group. Put pressure on the council where it hurts—in their inboxes and at the ballot box.
• 🎯 Leave early. Because let’s face it, if Aberdeen’s roads were a person, they’d be chronically late for everything.

The next time you’re stuck behind a van unloading “sustainable” planters in the middle of a bus lane, ask yourself: who is this really for? And more importantly—how much are you willing to pay to find out?

So What Do We Do Now?

Look, I’ve spent years dodging potholes on Holburn Street—literally. Back in February 2023, my front left wheel got swallowed by a crater so deep I swear I could plant tomatoes in it. Yet, funny enough, the real road-rage isn’t the tarmac—it’s the paralysis. Aberdeen’s gridlock isn’t just about broken roads or bike lanes blocked by construction detritus; it’s about a city that’s forgotten whether it’s building for cars, pedestrians, or lycra-clad anarchists on two wheels.

I mean, we’ve got cycle activists painting their own lanes like the council won’t, commuters playing Russian roulette with Aberdeen transport and driving news alerts, and pensioners debating whether the 38X bus is now a myth like Bigfoot. It’s bonkers. And for all the talk of “Aberdeen’s road crisis dividing the city,” I think the real split is between those waiting for someone else to fix it—and those who’ve grabbed a spanner, a bike, or a megaphone and said, “No more.”

At this point, I’m not sure if Aberdeen’s next step is a bold pedestrianisation plan or another decade of half-arsed patch jobs—I’m not even convinced the council knows. But one thing’s clear: the status quo is unsustainable, and the people who’ve had enough aren’t just tweeting about it anymore; they’re out there, wrench in hand or flat tyre at the ready. So here’s my question: Can a city learn to share the road—or will we all just keep blaming the potholes?

The author is a content creator, occasional overthinker, and full-time coffee enthusiast.

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