I’ve had my share of harrowing driving experiences. Driving down the coast of Oregon at night in a rainstorm. Driving left-handed stick shift on the “wrong” side of the road in England. Driving up and down Cape Cod in a Nor’easter.
But I was always in control. I was by myself. I was the one driving.
After Bird Island, my driver started yawning and dabbing his eyes every thirty seconds. Now, the Chinese think of the rules of the road as mere suggestions. Attention is rewarded when driving in China. Inattention is…foolhardy.
I wasn’t in control. I was with him. He was the one driving.
I was going to die.
Every time he’d yawn and drift into traffic or attempt to pass a slower car despite oncoming traffic, I thought to myself, “Well, ‘died in a car crash in China’s remote Qinghai province’ isn’t the worst obituary I could come up with.”
I like to think that my loved ones would be able to say that David died doing what he loved: watching politely while he judged a stranger for doing their job badly.