Taxis

Iv'e done some bad things in my life. And I was reminded of many of them this morning during the most frightening car journey of my life, as they flashed before my eyes.

I had to go to Hong Kong on Tuesday for a meeting, and catching the first flight from Pudong Airport meant an early start to the day. The pissing rain had caused enormous puddles on the main highway and as the driver lurched from lane to lane at 110kmh (believe me, it felt fast this morning), aquaplaning and hooting his horn at equally bonkers lorry drivers, I began to think about the safety features of the Volkswagen Santana. Possibly, when China's most popular automobile (the default choice of cab companies) was first manufactured, it was best in class in terms of roadholding, crash test performance or airbag deployment. But I doubt it.

As I looked around my impending C.O.D. (cause of death) I went through a mental checklist;

1) No rear seatbelt? Check
2) Bald tyres? Check
3) Unyielding plastic cage around driver on which to bang head? Check
4) 10 years "maintenance free" suspension/brakes/windscreen wipers? Check
5) Driver underqualified to drive a tonka toy? Undoubtedly.

So poor was his control of the accelerator pedal that I actually checked to see if he had a club foot when I got out of the car, shaking, at the terminal building.

If you are ever in Shanghai and you notice that the cab in which you are travelling has chubby finger marks embedded in the interior door handle, you will know that I was there before you and that unless your driver has taken drastic remedial action, you are in for a wild ride.

As a post script: on my way back from the airport at 10.30pm, the taxi driver for the return leg was driving very slowly. He eventually stopped in the middle lane of the Pudong Highway. Concerned for his welfare, I tapped on the plastic cage around him to attract his attention. No response. I banged on the glass and he jerked himself awake. I swear this is true. It think it was one of those days.