This may have been the clearest I saw any major street in Moscow. Still, as can be seen, the traffic was significant, if not overwhelming.
Of course, since the fall of the Soviet Union, the importing of cars has increased dramatically, particularly from popular European manufacturers. This plus the domestic production has led to a doubling of car ownership between 1993 and 2003. Certainly a great part of this is also the increase in economic productivity and individual wealth, allowing consumers to purchase the relatively-expensive European models. Sensing the new market, many European manufacturers now have established factories in Russia or have established production deals with domestic manufacturers. Nevertheless, there is a dedicated base of Russian who feel nostalgic about older Russian models and continue to drive them (Siegelbaum 254–258)
And, indeed, my time in Russia would suggest that the number of cars (and of foreign cars) is increasing. Walking through the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg, it is almost hard to find a Russian car—and not for lack of cars. Indeed, Moscow was nearly gridlocked the entire time I was there, even at night. This was aggravated by the seeming inability of Moscow drivers to follow traffic signals, the directions of police officers directing traffic, or even the simple courtesy of letting ambulances through. Accordingly, the trip from our hotel (the Izmaylovo) to Red Square took some hour and a half, while by metro it took only about twenty-five minutes.
Another major problem is the continuing lack of parking spaces, prompting Muscovites to park on sidewalks, on the side of the street, in crosswalks, on medians, in the middle of intersections, and anywhere else where a few square meters are going unused. This is made worse yet by the increasing proportion of sport-utility vehicles and larger European sedans driven through Moscow.
St. Petersburg was less congested, but due to the large number of narrow streets (as well as the large amounts of snow that had fallen prior to our arrival), the parking situation was perhaps worse yet than Moscow. Moreover, because of the relative lack of under-street crosswalks (perekhody), this constant traffic was somewhat more difficult to deal with as a pedestrian. In Moscow, while bordering on suicidal to try and cross major streets otherwise, the perekhody proved very useful, as well as a welcome respite from the winter wind. Tula, a smaller city, seemed to be experiencing the onset of these sort of problems, though they were much less dramatically present.
The handful of Russians I was able to ask all agreed that the traffic situation needs attention, and that the increased number of cars were not, on the whole, a positive force. Still, they all expressed doubt that Russians, so long denied the privilege of driving, could easily be convinced to take public transit instead. They saw driving as a matter of prestige and of pride, and suggested that the only real solutions would be to try and build better parking facilities and higher-capacity roads. Having been in American cities that have adopted that approach, I am not sure I agree that that is the best line of attack, but, admittedly, it may be the only practical one for the time being.