There was a time when driving was a pleasure. Families would pile into the car on Sundays and say: "Ejja mmorru dawra" (Let's go for a ride). Roads were rudimentary, yes, but that was part of the fun. Many of the roads we go through today did not exist, and some "major routes" were basically farm lanes with ambitions, but there was space to breathe.

We even had a term for people who drove slowly: "Sunday drivers". They were annoying, sure, but they chose to go at a snail's pace. Today, we're all Sunday drivers, all days of the week - not by choice, but because moving faster than 30 km/h is considered a miracle. Today, if you want to experience what it felt like to drive in empty roads, you have to do so at 3am. But be careful. Street-lighting in most of our roads is horrendous, sleeping policemen badly marked, and potholes abound.

Back then, parking was abundant. You could drive into Valletta and actually find a spot. Fast forward to today, and circling for parking is a competitive sport - not only in the capital city - complete with clenched jaws, honking horns, and the occasional death stare.

The contrast is brutal. What used to be leisure is now punishment. People used to drive for fun; now they drive only out of necessity, gritting their teeth and praying for survival. Every journey comes with its own mental health challenge: Will I find parking? Will I get diverted again? Will my blood pressure spike before I reach the office?

Instead of relaxing Sunday drives, we get weekday panic attacks. Instead of cruising with the windows down, we get air-conditioning on full blast to keep out the cocktail of exhaust fumes. Instead of "ejja mmorru dawra," it's "ejja mmorru għax ma nafux meta ha naslu" - let's go, because we don't know when we'll arrive.

And why, exactly, are we here? Well, let's spell it out. In the last 12 years, Malta's population has exploded - from 420,000 in 2012 to 574,000 in 2025. That's an extra 154,000 people squeezed onto the same 316 square kilometres. Not to mention tourists who visit, as we exceeded four million last year.

This would be manageable if the government had planned. Spoiler alert: they didn't. Instead, they opened the door wide to the importation of labour and to more and more tourists without thinking about the pressure this would put on infrastructure, transport, or the environment.

The result? More construction, more cars, more traffic, and less green space. Because obviously, the only thing more exciting than sitting in traffic for two hours is doing it while staring at yet another half-finished apartment block where a field used to be.

At the end of December 2025, the stock of licensed motor vehicles stood at 457,403, according to the latest statement issued by the NSO. Not too far away from having a vehicle per person on the islands, infants included.

The government loves to spin this as a sign of prosperity. "Look how well-off we are," they say, "everyone has a car". They forget to mention the other side of the coin: prosperity has bought us gridlock, stress, anxiety, and a national pastime of swearing at strangers through rolled-up windows.

Driving has become a psychological endurance test. People now leave home earlier and earlier, not because they're ambitious, but because they're desperate to avoid the morning logjam.

Drivers weave through backstreets in frantic search of shortcuts, only to discover that everyone else had the same bright idea. And just when you think you've cracked the system, you hit roadworks. Diversions leading to diversions - a kind of Kafkaesque maze designed to test your patience and your GPS.

They tell us they employed people to help manage the traffic at roundabouts. When it's raining, they are nowhere to be seen. When it's not raining, they stand on the side of the road discussing the previous night's game. To be fair, some of them do try to help, but it does not reduce the confusion much.

Meanwhile, public transport has improved compared to 40 years ago. Buses are more reliable, routes more extensive. Yet people avoid them, because sitting in traffic in a car is misery, but sitting in traffic on a bus is even more frustrating. We learnt this week that 58% of people did not use public transport in 2024, the latest Eurostat statistic.

Faced with this chaos, what has the government done? A masterclass in band-aids on bullet wounds.

More roads, more flyovers: The holy grail of Maltese policymaking. Widen the road, build an underpass or a bridge, slap on a ribbon. Never mind that these projects are outdated before the concrete sets.

Harsher penalties: Yes, traffic accidents are rising, and introducing harsher penalties is the government's answer. Because clearly, punishing reckless drivers will also reduce congestion. Genius.

€25,000 to give up your licence: Ah yes, the pièce de résistance. The government proudly announced it would offer €25,000 over five years to drivers willing to give up their licence. A noble initiative. The government says it's a measure that will reduce the number of cars. Maybe it has not seen the latest NSO report saying that 35 vehicles were added to our streets every day in the last quarter of 2025.

Now we have also found out that some of those who applied to get their €25,000 hand-out did not own a car or were not driving regularly. So we paid them to surrender their licence but no cars were taken off the road. Perfect.

This is the stage we're at now: bribery. Not policy, not vision, just cash in the hope that the problem drives itself away. Never mind that we need mass transit, cultural shifts, and long-term strategy. Those take effort. Far easier to sprinkle money like confetti and hope nobody notices the lack of substance.

This isn't progress. It's proof that for more than a decade, we've had a government addicted to quick fixes, terrified of long-term planning, and completely out of touch with reality.

Driving should be a convenience. At one time, it was even a pleasure. Now it's a national trauma, a daily endurance trial that erodes our quality of life. And yet the government continues to insist that everything is "under control".

If they won't take action, maybe we should try to make the most of it by rebranding traffic as a tourist attraction: Market Malta as "The Gridlock Island." Tourists can come and experience congestion like never before. They will talk about it back home just as they do when they return from Paris and speak about the Eiffel Tower.

Because if nothing changes, this is our future: more cars, more roads, more stress, and more ministers unveiling plaques while the rest of us cut years off our lives in traffic.

So congratulations to the government. Truly, well done. In its tireless mission to avoid actual planning, it created a legacy we'll all remember: a country where driving is no longer a joy, not even a convenience, but a curse.