The flight from Minneapolis took 18 hours and we were all looking forward to a shower at the hotel. Our taxi driver seemed to think that this was a life and death issue and leapt straight into the fast lane laying on his horn all the way. A colorful sign on the back of a truck read, “PLEASE BLOW HORN”. Not necessary. Although all the cars are stick shifts, everyone manages to steer and shift while honking their horns non-stop.
Like the English, Indians drive on the left side of the road. Our driver also used the right side, the middle and the shoulder – anywhere there was a gap wide enough for his taxi plus, perhaps, the width a postcard. But what really made my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline is the way he would pull into the oncoming lane and drive full-speed at traffic coming full-speed in the opposite direction, then jerk back into our lane or off onto the shoulder at the last second. Time and again, we’d miss a head-on collision by inches. The lady leading our group saw I had my hand over my eyes and said, “They all drive this way. You’ll get used to it.”
One last jerk and the car stopped. I peeked out of my fingers. We’d reached our hotel. The meter said 160 rupees – two and a half bucks. I gave him three.
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