It ain't for sissies, that's for sure

Our driver Chandrasakar is fearless. In a city of unmarked four-way intersections this is a good thing. He cruises the streets, alleys, and boulevards of Chennai with elan. Well, with elan and a well calloused thumb from riding the horn so ruthlessly. As I've said before, people use the horn to mean, in no particular order: I'm coming, I'm going, stop, hurry up, look out, on your left, on your right, pardon me do you have any Grey Poupon?, I'm turning left, I'm turning right, I'm blowing the red light, etc.

While technically there are traffic rules and laws, in day to day life they fall by the wayside. Everyone goes. All the time. The only time people stop is at red lights, and then only when heavy traffic is coming the other way.

To the Western eye, every moment is chaos. Every moment is one moment away from impact.

Did I mention the cows?

The cows. The bicyclists carrying five or six BBQ grill gas canisters piled on top of one another (talk about Tandoori). The people walking in the street (both with and against traffic). The auto-rickshaws. And the ubiquitous 106CC motorcycles that dart into any open space on the road.

Did I mention that everything but the cows have a horn. Drivers in Chennai (and all of India, I'm told) use the horn like drivers in the United States use the gas pedal on a wide open stretch of freeway. With abandon and vigor. Anil says that driving in the U.S. is not half as fun because no one honks.


Well sure. But we also stay within the painted lanes. Like everything else here, lane markers are merely suggestions. When I came here, I imagined riding someones motorcycle about for fun. Now that I've been here awhile, I realize that would leave me in the hospital. It takes true skill to drive here.

Which brings me back to Chandrasakar. At first he terrified me. Then I got used to his aggressive style. Now I don't even gasp when he misses someone or someone misses him by millimeters.

Why?

Because I've ridden with someone else. In the front seat (which is the driver's side in the U.S.) Talk about horrifying. There's nothing more frightening than hearing someone grind into first gear when a bus is barreling down on you from the opposite direction, but in your lane. After we avoided becoming bugs on the bus' windshield, I asked (I'll call him Shridar to save him from being embarrassed, ok Sundar?) how long he had been driving.

"Two weeks," he replied. I laughed, and asked him again. "No. Seriously. How long?"

"Two weeks," he said again. I buckled up.


Now when I slide into the front seat of our car, I smile and nod at Chandrasakar. I know how hard he works to make it look so easy.

Oh, one last thing. He almost got a ticket today. The right lane had to go straight, the left lane had to turn left. Our man made an illegal right hand turn across traffic (remember, they drive on the opposite side of the road). I think he probably told the cop directing traffic, who pulled him over with a wave of the hand (think about that for a minute...the one person in charge of keeping people from running into each other abandoned a huge intersection to bark at someone), that the white guys made him do it.

Like I said, he's good.

Chandrasakar in a rare moment away from the wheel