Survival of the Meanest

Driving in Kingston, Jamaica is a perilous activity for the sane, undertaken only out of necessity - to go to work, run errands, and so forth.

Driving in Kingston, Jamaica is a contact sport for the insane, undertaken only out of the driving need (forgive the pun) to add to the chaos that is Jamaican life, and to raise the blood pressure of the few sane drivers who do exist.

How else can you explain the taxi drivers who turn left from a right-turning lane (or right from a left turning lane)? The bus drivers who stop in the middle of the road to drop off and pick up passengers? The SUV drivers who blithely park across the last 2 spaces left in the supermarket parking lot?

How about everybody else who turns without using an indicator or a hand signal?

That's my favourite beef, actually. I'm convinced that 50% of Jamaican drivers believe that their vehicles will explode if they switch on their indicators. Another 30% believe that using an indicator will decrease their manhood.

I actually have anecdotal proof of this. I was in a taxi one day and I noticed the driver was making turns with no signals whatsoever. I asked him why he was doing this. His response?

"Bad man nuh use indicator."

See? Signalling that you're going to turn or switch lanes, just isn't sexy anymore.

If signalling reduces a man's machismo, then overtaking certainly builds it right back up. That's right, sir, go ahead and overtake a line of 6 cars, while going around a corner. And when you see the oncoming truck, make sure to jus' jook the front of your vehicle right in front of mine. It's just what I needed to make sure I don't fall asleep at the wheel.

Oh, and then there are those drivers who think that red lights are... you know... just suggestions. Maybe you should stop... But only if you feel like, or if another vehicle is nearby, or if you're not in a rush. But please don't feel pressured to pay any attention to traffic lights of any colour.

Sigh. It's crazy. I used to love to drive. It used to be my escape, a chance to think. Me, the vehicle and the open road.

Forget that. It's me with all my frayed, jangled nerves, eyes darting left and right, muttering half-sentences of prayer in between gasping for air... the vehicle... and the open road now jammed with insane drivers intent on proving their machismo.

I have issues with women drivers too... but nex' time.