Driving, part 1 - 3:58 pm 8/21/2005
"Don't worry, sirs, they're not required in the back. You're in India!" This is our driver's only comment regarding seatbelts in the back of his carefully-tricked-out Toyota SUV1. Apparently, they're only required up in the front of the car... and even then, he only seems to worry about it during the day. At night, he explains, there are fewer policement out watching traffic, so at night, "they're not required". This is really the only thing he has to say on the matter of seatbelts in general: "Don't worry, sir, it's not required".
Driving in general is pretty chaotic here. No, wait, scratch that— it's completely chaotic. There are a lot of people on the roads. I mean, a lot of people. Bicycles, cows, rickshaws, scooters, buses, animal-driven carts, taxis, trucks, pedestrians, all dodging around each other at high speeds and honking as loudly and as frequently as possible. Our driver, whose name is Clint, actually has installed some sort of auxiliary honking unit in his car. It produces perhaps ten or fifteen different tones and patterns, and has lots of interesting flashing LEDs. So, whenever Clint doesn't think his car's main horn will do the trick, he hits a small switch he's installed on the dashboard, and suddently his horn starts playing a sort of two-tone klaxon, or some sort of musical scale, or whatever he has it set to at that moment. Also, it changes how the horn button works: in the normal operating mode, one has to hold down the button on the steering column in order to cause sound to come from the horn. When in the auxiliary mode, however, the simple act of tapping the horn button causes the horn to automatically honk for about five to ten seconds. It's sort of like one-touch dialing for a car horn. I've decided that I need one of these things for my Acura— hours of fun for everybody.
The city buses are all a brilliant combination of robin's-egg blue and yellow— very hard to miss. They also have "Danger" painted on the back, frequently with a set of crossed Indian flags and the message "My India Is Great" as well. Also, some of them (and also many trucks) say "Obey Traffic Laws". This is funny for a number of reasons, but primarily, I think it's funny because, as near as we can tell, and from what others have told us, there are no traffic laws. The only ones that anybody seems to follow with any consistency are that one drives on the left, and that when a light is red, you probably shouldn't go through the intersection. Unless, of course, you see a good opening— then you should try and go for it.
I fully expect to return to Oregon and be honking my horn like crazy, and cutting people off left and right. And maybe drive on the wrong side of the road. Apparently, it is very common for Indians who go to the US to get massive traffic tickets the first few times they drive. Here, if you are driving the wrong way down the street, and a traffic cop happens upon you, you might need to pay a three or four dollar bribe in order to keep going. In the US, I'm not sure what the going rate for looking the other way to driving down the wrong side of the road is, but I imagine it's a hair higher than that. :-)
1: Ways in which Clint's car is customized: Uncountable Toyota stickers and badges; not less than three Audi badges (no, we don't know why); customized Toyota door handles (yes, door handles); stickers for about twelve different providers of high-end car audio, security, lighting, etc.; extra-bright headlights (multiple sets); auxiliary horn system; religious icons from what are, as near as we can tell, three or four different religions; six or seven tassel-type things hanging down in front of the windscreen; seatbelts removed from the backseat; etc. The end result of all of this customization is that the vehicle has a certain... personality, very different from any car I've ever ridden in the US. Much like the everything else in India, the car seems to be brimming over with activity and personality, going in every possible direction at the same time. Its general affect is one of complete, barely contained, and slightly desperate chaos.
Driving in general is pretty chaotic here. No, wait, scratch that— it's completely chaotic. There are a lot of people on the roads. I mean, a lot of people. Bicycles, cows, rickshaws, scooters, buses, animal-driven carts, taxis, trucks, pedestrians, all dodging around each other at high speeds and honking as loudly and as frequently as possible. Our driver, whose name is Clint, actually has installed some sort of auxiliary honking unit in his car. It produces perhaps ten or fifteen different tones and patterns, and has lots of interesting flashing LEDs. So, whenever Clint doesn't think his car's main horn will do the trick, he hits a small switch he's installed on the dashboard, and suddently his horn starts playing a sort of two-tone klaxon, or some sort of musical scale, or whatever he has it set to at that moment. Also, it changes how the horn button works: in the normal operating mode, one has to hold down the button on the steering column in order to cause sound to come from the horn. When in the auxiliary mode, however, the simple act of tapping the horn button causes the horn to automatically honk for about five to ten seconds. It's sort of like one-touch dialing for a car horn. I've decided that I need one of these things for my Acura— hours of fun for everybody.
The city buses are all a brilliant combination of robin's-egg blue and yellow— very hard to miss. They also have "Danger" painted on the back, frequently with a set of crossed Indian flags and the message "My India Is Great" as well. Also, some of them (and also many trucks) say "Obey Traffic Laws". This is funny for a number of reasons, but primarily, I think it's funny because, as near as we can tell, and from what others have told us, there are no traffic laws. The only ones that anybody seems to follow with any consistency are that one drives on the left, and that when a light is red, you probably shouldn't go through the intersection. Unless, of course, you see a good opening— then you should try and go for it.
I fully expect to return to Oregon and be honking my horn like crazy, and cutting people off left and right. And maybe drive on the wrong side of the road. Apparently, it is very common for Indians who go to the US to get massive traffic tickets the first few times they drive. Here, if you are driving the wrong way down the street, and a traffic cop happens upon you, you might need to pay a three or four dollar bribe in order to keep going. In the US, I'm not sure what the going rate for looking the other way to driving down the wrong side of the road is, but I imagine it's a hair higher than that. :-)
1: Ways in which Clint's car is customized: Uncountable Toyota stickers and badges; not less than three Audi badges (no, we don't know why); customized Toyota door handles (yes, door handles); stickers for about twelve different providers of high-end car audio, security, lighting, etc.; extra-bright headlights (multiple sets); auxiliary horn system; religious icons from what are, as near as we can tell, three or four different religions; six or seven tassel-type things hanging down in front of the windscreen; seatbelts removed from the backseat; etc. The end result of all of this customization is that the vehicle has a certain... personality, very different from any car I've ever ridden in the US. Much like the everything else in India, the car seems to be brimming over with activity and personality, going in every possible direction at the same time. Its general affect is one of complete, barely contained, and slightly desperate chaos.
posted by steve | 10:32 AM
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