Friday, October 23, 2009

Taking a rickshaw stand


After two months, I have a deep resentment of rickshaw drivers.
I'm totally over paying (and usually getting ripped off)
for the privilege of another near-death, white-knuckle ride.
Like most naive newcomers, I thought rickshaws were cool.
Twitchy-eyed men, navigating traffic like a chess game on speed.
Weaving, ducking, diving, cutting each other up with sadistic and unnecessary addiction,
At first, I clenched the sides, broke out in sweat and tried not to
think about slapping these small-time Schumacher's
with a copy of the Highway Code.
But somewhere along the line, I started getting used to it,
barely raising an eyebrow as we switched lanes and hurtled
full throttle, into on-coming traffic.
But after nearly getting flattened by a bus yesterday I've decided
to reassess my mode of transport.
Firstly, because contrary to popular belief they do crash.
And often.
Two, if they do crash, I'm sitting in a tin can.
Taxi!





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