What’s your first reaction to this photo?
If you gasped in shock and muttered, “What kind of fool would get behind the wheel in New Delhi, India?” then we’re on the same page.
That’s exactly how I reacted to the idea of driving here when we first arrived last August. After 10 months of taxi transport – flailing around in the backseats during death-defying U-turns, repeatedly hitting speed bumps/potholes/medians at full speed, seeking out physical therapy for my neck and then undoing those sessions on the roller coaster ride home, and dodging drunk drivers in the oncoming traffic – I guess I figure “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
As you know, we took possession of our new-to-us car and driver when we returned to India after the summer. Gilbert, a careful diligent driver, takes us to and from school on weekdays in our little air-conditioned comfy Honda. We’re on our own come Saturday and Sunday.
Last weekend, we awoke to yet another electricity-free morning. I knew it would come back on eventually, but I had work to do that required internet access. I could have called a taxi, but the car sat in front of our house, taunting me. “Seriously? You’re going to take a taxi to school when you own a perfectly fine car?”
I bravely climbed in the passenger side before remembering it’s all backward here. The steering wheel is on the right, and we drive on the left. “Keep your watch to the curb” was Tony’s mantra when we rented a scooter in Thailand, so I kept that in mind as I pulled out of our neighborhood. That was 7 a.m. and the roads were relatively free of traffic. Unfortunately, my driving efforts were rewarded with no internet and no network access at school, so I did a couple hours of lesson planning and then headed home, still early enough to beat the crowds.
Although that morning certainly was liberating, I broke through another barrier Wednesday (not LITERALLY, although that wouldn’t be so unusual here). I drove at night! Yikes! I have mediocre night vision under the best of circumstances, but Delhiwallas keep their brights on, thus blinding all oncoming drivers.
We had the day off Wednesday for India’s Independence Day, so I drove to school, picked up my friend Katrina, drove a couple blocks to a luncheon, drove back to school to work for a couple hours, got back in the car with Katrina and drove to the Australian High Commission for a Zumba class and then dropped my friend Nancy at her house on my way home!
That’s a lot of driving!
In. Delhi.
Katrina only had to remind me once that I was in the wrong lane, and my left arm did go limp with terror when I had to downshift while merging with fast-moving cars coming off the highway. But Nancy gave me lots of props, nonetheless.
Here are some ways driving in Delhi differs from driving in Michigan:
* As I mentioned, the steering wheel is on the other side. But who knew the windshield wiper and turn signal were switched? Every time I wanted to signal, I cleaned the windshield instead. Finally, I just followed the lead of my fellow drivers and stopped signalling my turns.
* Obviously, you have to shift with your left hand. If you are ambidextrous, this may not seem like a big deal. If your left arm is more like a jellyfish tentacle, you can relate to my anxiety.
* Because the steering wheel is on the other side, the bulk of the car is ALSO on the other side. Instead of your body riding close to the curb, your body has to stay near the center line or you will clip someone on the road shoulder.
* Oh, did I suggest there’s a shoulder? There’s not.
* Staying in a lane is not only optional, it’s actually unwise. You’ll never get through an intersection if you insist on lining up behind cars stopped at the light. You must inch around them and squeeze up to the front. Then when the light changes, you jockey for a spot in the crawling mass.
* Never use your mirrors or otherwise look behind you. If someone wants to pass, he’ll honk. If someone pulls into your blind spot, he’ll honk.
* You must remember to honk. This is not an automatic reflex for me. In addition to the honk-worthy situations listed above, you must honk your horn to warn anyone or anything – pedestrians, tuk-tuk drivers, cyclists, cows, dogs, kite-flying children, beggars, motorbikes overflowing with full families, fruit peddlers, parked vehicles, construction workers, packs of youngsters in school uniforms, bicycle rickshaws piled high with cardboard/mattresses/furniture/gas canisters/etc., fill-in-the-blank – lingering in the road that you are approaching.
* Bottom line: Anything goes.
I haven’t ventured too far from home yet, and I certainly haven’t encountered the worst that Delhi has to offer. However, my initial feeling is that I can do this. Freedom!
Dare to get in with me?
