Despite the frustration of sitting in endless jams, I've always felt Bangkok motorists display remarkable restraint when it comes to using horns. Unlike many cities in the world it is rare to hear a chorus of angry car klaxons. Things are admittedly a bit different on the provincial highways with buses and trucks not averse to giving a blast on their air horns with the clear message "Get out of the way."
Having said that, during the week I experienced a taxi journey in the city with a cabbie who was a certified horn honker. At the very first traffic lights he blasted his horn as if it would magically turn the lights to green. Just about every time we stopped he hit the horn despite the vehicles in front having nowhere to go. I wondered if maybe he had a nervous condition that made him automatically hit the klaxon.
He was also a terrible driver constantly changing lanes, cutting off cars and at one stage going through a red light. On the rare occasion we had a bit of open road he accelerated wildly before slamming on the brakes. I was quite relieved when we finally reached our destination, but immediately felt sorry for new passengers he proceeded to pick up who didn't know what they were letting themselves in for.
Red mist
I was more fortunate than a colleague going home in a Bangkok taxi late one night. For an unclear reason his taxi driver began honking aggressively at the vehicle in front of him which had stopped at the red lights. The motorist in front, clearly upset, got out of his car, walked over to the taxi driver and they had a heated exchange.
When the lights turned green the motorist drove off very slowly. If this was designed to annoy the taxi driver it worked a treat. The cabbie honked more furiously than ever. After a short distance the car in front stopped, the motorist jumped out, opened up the boot and pulled out a baseball bat. He then proceeded to smash the taxi's windscreen. That's when my colleague fled the scene.
Run for it
Which brings us to my favourite "driver fled the scene" story from many years ago. Normally truck or bus drivers flee the scene after an accident, but in this case it was before.
It occurred in the southern province of Nakhon Si Thammarat when a bus driver, upon realising the brakes had failed, leapt out of the cab and fled, leaving 30 startled passengers hurtling down the highway aboard a driverless bus. It eventually crashed into a roadside market wiping out many stalls and creating quite a mess.
Another noteworthy episode occurred when two truck drivers fled the scene at the same time when one was towing the other. The truck being towed somehow succeeded in hitting a taxi which prompted the truck in front to collide with another vehicle. The two truck drivers were last spotted sprinting across a paddy field, no doubt heading for the safe haven of Nakhon Nowhere.
Road warriors
One place in Asia I associate with horn honking, combined with unorthodox driving is China. After my first visit to that country in the 1990s I vowed to never complain about the standard of driving in Thailand ever again. A vow that was quickly broken I might add.
There are many road safety signs in China and it didn't take long to discover why. The standard highway procedure appeared to be to overtake at any opportunity and if something suddenly appears coming in the opposite direction just blast the horn and hope they get out of the way.
Over the top
Last week's item on Phu Kradeung reminded me of the time I joined colleague Tony Waltham on a "getting away from it all" trip to the mountains of Mae Sot near the Myanmar border. It involved a lot more exercise than I had envisaged.
One morning, along with a guide, we headed up a mountain to visit a Karen village. The guide gave assurances it would not require any major effort, which must have been his idea of a little joke.
I lagged behind from the start only to be rescued by Tony and the guide who periodically stopped to let me catch up. The guide kept reassuring me the top of the mountain was "just around the corner" but each corner brought a new and even more distant "top". After one exhausting stretch, I found Tony and guide sitting comfortably by a stream. What a relief, we had finally made it.
That's when the guide informed me we had just reached the half-way mark.
Public bath
I would never last long in those TV Reality shows in which people have to survive on an island. Back in pre-tourism days I was on Koh Sukhon a small island off the Trang coast. To take a bath required using an artesian well in the middle of a small village.
Gingerly arriving at the well wearing only a pakaoma, I was horrified to find that half the village had turned out to watch me perform my ablutions. It was prime time entertainment. Extracting water from a well is also not as simple as it sounds, especially with an audience of giggling villagers. At least my pakaoma didn't fall off.
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