By Erik Nilsson
The country's cabbies drive me crazy - in a good way, that is. Surely, some of the zaniest people I've met in China were behind the wheels of cars for hire.
There was the guy in Tianjin who clucked like a chicken at us for most of the trip. We never actually found out why.
Then there was the guy in Hainan who imitated what English sounded like to him - again, much like chicken clucking but with more consonant sounds - for a really, really long time.
An Australian friend and colleague tells me about the grabby cabbie who gripped his thigh and didn't let go. Instead, he jiggled it.
At first, he played along and even laughed. But as the cab driver held on his patience wore thinner and the situation made him feel increasingly touchy.
He patted the cabbie's hand to indicate that was enough. And when that didn't work, he gently seized the misplaced mitt, lifted it from his knee and re-deposited it on the driver's side of the vehicle.
Anyone who has spent a while in China has likely gotten a lift from a driver who seems keen to show off their musical tastes and talents.
My girlfriend and I got a kick out of one cabbie who picked us up, then cranked up the Eminem. My aforementioned friend and colleague also tells of the driver with the "pimped out" cab - fuzzy dice, leather seat covers and a racing steering wheel - who bopped to Backstreet Boys for their ride home.
But my favorite was the Kenny G-crooning cabbie who serenaded my girlfriend. He flashed her the CD cover and a toothy grin, and asked if she liked Mr G. From the backseat, she responded with a sheepish "yes".
So he popped the king of sax in the player and started singing along. Because he didn't speak any English he canorously adlibbed syllable sounds similar to the lyrics, in a deep voice. He did this the entire ride home, while casting enticing, eyebrow-raised glances at my girlfriend in the rearview mirror. Fortunately for me, she was somehow able to resist his Siren songs.
On Sunday, I hailed a less-than-gabby cabbie. He shot down my attempts at language-exchange banter, so I hunkered down in the seat for what I expected to be a quiet ride home.
But when we hit a stoplight, he began rhythmically tapping his steering wheel in what was at first a fidgety way. However, within a few minutes, the tempo and volume picked up, and before long, he added the dashboard to his faux drum kit.
At that point, sitting still seemed awkward, so I decided to accompany him, slapping my knees and rapping the dash to the beat for the rest of the way home.
Because of several setbacks that day, I was stomping mad when I hailed this drumming driver, but I disembarked with a cheerful bounce to my step.
I wonder if these crazy cabbies have any clue that for us, such unexpected experiences can make a bad day in the fast lane take an unexpected turn for the better - and for that, I'll sing their praises.
(China Daily December 19, 2007)
