15 July 2011 / leggypeggy

Stop this taxi we want to get off!

I never in a million years thought a taxi would give me the scariest ride of my life.

• I thought the truck would tip over in Africa until Chris, our driver, said the truck weighed 17 tonnes and I was standing on 14 of those tonnes.
• I thought I’d fall off the camel in Timbuktu because my saddle was split in two.
• I thought the car might slide over a cliff in icy weather in the Rocky Mountains.
• My mother thought I was history if I rode on a motorcycle.

And then I got in a taxi at the Turkish border and I thought I’d die.

There were six of us—plus the driver—in a car built for five. If only we’d known. Blithely we said, ‘Vanessa, you’re small, so you can sit in front on Karl’s lap.’ The rest of us—being Lu, Gary, Poor John and me—piled in the back. ‘Is everyone comfy?’ ‘Yeah. yeah!’

Vanessa snaps a pic of Karl, who has survived to celebrate another birthday. He has forgiven us for buying him a pink belly dancing wrap to mark the occasion.

And then the taxi screamed out of the carpark. In no time he was travelling at 140kph, then 160 and finally 180 (he even edged to 185 a couple of times). The posted speed limit varied between 50 and 70 kph. He slowed down to 140 for curves. He zigzagged from lane to lane, passing everyone. Vanessa smiled weakly, clung to Karl and tried not to face forward. I’m sure her fingernails were digging into his back. Lu slumped to the floor, thinking the back of the driver’s seat might provide some cushion in an accident.

In fact, nothing would have saved us in an accident at 180kph. We laughed about the trip at the time, but that was only because we were too terrified to do anything else. It was a sort of gasping, choked and teeth-gritted laugh that is oh, so insincere.

We’re not sure about the distance we covered, but it was something like 16–20 kilometres in eight minutes. Two truck haulers passed us while we were still waiting at the border—at least 40 minutes before we got in the speeding taxi. Imagine how surprised we were to pass them while we were in the taxi on the way to the bus station.

The others had gone ahead in the three taxis available—and we last six had waited for a taxi to return. As we started to tell our fellow travellers of our harrowing taxi ride, it turned out that they had similar stories. It seems all three taxis raced to the bus station to see who could be first, so they could come back for the rest of us.

The aftermath: When we arrived, Lu poured herself out of the taxi and kissed the ground. I dyed my hair to cover all the new grey. Vanessa is thinking about putting on weight so she’s never again the small one stuck in the front seat.

Footnote: The bus to Istanbul was deluxe, comfy, air-conditioned and sedate. They even served coffee, juice and snacks.