“There’s no way those water buffalo are going to come onto the road.”
It’s thoughts like this that get me into the most trouble in Southeast Asia. Despite being half way around the world I still, from time to time, interact with my environment as if I’m back in the States.
A group of people were going inside, along with supplies that I had spent the last week gathering. Given my knowledge of Thai (hello, don’t sweat it, I’m sorry, and thank you) my supply gathering usually consists of a lot of drawing and pantomime. And laughter. Have I mentioned that I get laughed at a lot here?
I was driving one of two diesel trucks heading to the border. Both machines are giant white Toyotas, capable of careening through the jungle and equipped with rooftop exhaust pipes just in case one of the things ever gets submerged in a river. They have 800,000 kilometers traveled between them.
“Come on Jungle Chicken,” I coaxed the aptly named machine as we roared up a hill, passing a teak laden flatbed. The herd of water buffalo was keeping pace with us to my right. I could have reached out and touched one, had I wanted to play petting zoo at 40 kilometers an hour.
The mistake I make the most when driving on this side of the Pacific is due to the controls on the sides of the steering wheel being reversed. Every time I turn, I flick on the windshield wipers instead of the blinkers. I had done this three times already on this trip alone, much to the amusement of my passengers. The two men, French documenters who make films about the conflict in Karen State, had both fallen asleep once we got into the hills.
In the past month I have made at least one border run a week; usually alone. I take my time and drive as slowly as possible while doing my best not to annoy everyone else on the road. This cautious approach was reinforced the first time I came upon a missing section of road. The concrete had been washed into the ravine below.
Today, though, given the group and large shipment of medical supplies there were two trucks. The whole trip I had been struggling to keep up with the other, much more experienced, driver.
The difference between driving in Asia and driving in the States is that, in the former, defensive driving goes right out the window. Instead of driving with the assumption that what can go wrong will go wrong, locals here drive as if everyone is the best driver in the world. And, for the most part, it works. I am amazed every time my boss, who has been here for nine years, is behind the wheel. When she’s driving we become part of a weaving flow of traffic that seems to have no lanes or stopping. Just the go-go-go of fast forward motion.
On the other hand, when I drive it’s like watching a rock in the middle of a racing river. I am a constant hindrance to the motorists of Thailand. For example, it took me a while to learn that breaking for pedestrians is something you just don’t do. The first time I stopped for an old lady who was waiting to cross the street, not only did the drivers behind me start causing a ruckus, but the woman herself gave me a look that said, “you, sir, are being ridiculous.”
But today I’d been doing alright. The local at the wheel of the other truck had never gotten too far ahead of us, and I had managed to keep the Jungle Chicken on the road.
“Watch yourself.”
One of the filmmakers had woken up. I was glancing at the water buffalo right when it inexplicably decided to cut us off. For a moment I pictured its large curved horns crashing into the side of the truck. We would drive into the vehicle on my left. The large wood trunks would spill out and smash on top of us. A monument of water buffalo, medical supplies, teak, and twisted metal would be instantly erected.
I down shifted and swung hard to the left. The flatbed rambled on up the hill as the herd of buffalo galloped across the road in front of us. They crossed into an adjacent field, kindly clearing the road as quickly as they blocked it.
The other filmmaker awoke and readjusted himself, taking the time to mutter “Idiot. You forgot to turn on your wipers,” before immediately falling back to sleep.