On Gettin' Jiggly Wid It

Well this is awkward.

I now need to send out a deep apology to the men, the women, expats, and any pimply-faced, probation-licensed teens that I may have singled out or offended in my diatribes on driving the Singaporean roads and expressways.

Sure that whole swerve-into-a-lane-without-indicating thing is a little irritating.

And yeah, that thing you do with the turn-a-corner-from-any-lane-you-choose-into-any-lane-you’d-like, sure does get stuck in my craw.

And sure, it seemed like driving a moped with the cubic capacity of a thermometer, at 80km per hour faster than it was designed to go (in my blind spot) appeared to be a dangerous maneuver.

I’m sorry.

Or as my new friends (the crafty Koreans) would say: “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Shawty. Shawty. Shawty. I’m going crazy, crazy baby”. Oops. Got a bit carried away there, Super Junior. (Perhaps those cheeky Poms, The Vapors, were more prophetic than I’d realized back in 1980.)

I’m very sorry.

Because I’ve now been to Malaysia.

It was a short trip. Technically I was in a vehicle on four occasions. It felt like forty-four occasions. (It's hard to tell with your eyes squeezed shut while gripping the seat in white-knuckled fear.)

To be fair, two of the occasions I was passenger to a work colleague who drove remarkably carefully … particularly given the sheer random chaos that was taking place on the “road” around him. I use the word road carefully, as it would appear that if you are in a vehicle in that country, then a driver need not limit himself to the “road”. He is entitled to use bits of sidewalk, median strips, ramps or people as part of the general carriageway.

So the other two occasions on the Malay bitumen were in “taxis”.

And I use the word taxi carefully, as I wouldn’t want to create the impression that a taxi is some type of licensed, street-worthy vehicle that is carefully regulated by a transport authority.

Apparently I could have used some liquid paper to scrawl the word “meter” (correct spelling optional) to a digital watch, sticky-taped it to the dashboard of my first car (a $50 Torana), and placed a cardboard sign with the word “taxi” (spelling optional) in the rear window … and I could have earned a few Ringgits.

So I learned a few things on my journeys to and from the airport in a “taxi”:
1. Having a seatbelt is mandatory.
2. Having something the seatbelt actually plugs into is optional.
3. Despite what your 8th grade Physics teacher will try to tell you, it is in fact possible to experience G-Forces in a 1.6 litre 1986 Nissan Sentra (that’s a Nissan Sunny to you Singaporeans, and an ’86 Pulsar to you Aussies … and I ain’t even gonna try to describe this vee-hic-le to you, Jethro).
4. It turns out there is a Shock Sensor in my laptop. And, although it is somewhat validating that technology is confirming your concerns about whether land-based vehicles should be moving so swiftly in lateral direction, you know you are in trouble when your PC starts shutting things down.

So I say Sorry. Shawty.