Driving myself, crazy

The other day, in one of my blind panics that involves propelling the Flying Sofa around Hong Kong, and never quite managing to go the way I intended, I realised too late that I was in an Autotoll lane for the Aberdeen Tunnel. Realising my error, I drew up and, to show willing, feebly waved my HK$5 out of the window. There was no one to take it. The whole point of Autotoll is that the booths are unmanned. Instead, a large bus loomed into my rear view and honked impatiently. I had no choice but to cross the red light and drive on. When I got home I related the story to my eldest son who gasped and said, You’ll have to pay a fine Mummy. It’s about HK$5,000. I hoped he was wrong.

I have no GPS. If one exists for Hong Kong I could have done with it. An all too familiar scenario is to be driving along a busy expressway with a vague idea of where I am going but little idea how to get there. Up ahead I see a flyover crossing my road some 30 feet in the air. I recognise that I need to be up on that road but I have no idea how to join the dots.

In the early days I felt quite proud of myself for seizing the bull by the horns and getting behind the wheel of my car. One ex-pat earned my scorn with her admission that she didn’t drive on the left. Another that she was only prepared to drive in certain parts of Hong Kong. Me? I’d go anywhere – mostly unintentionally. As for arriving I was usually late, shaking with fright and bathed in sweat.

Just a couple of weeks ago I spent over an hour trying to find the way into Bonham Road via a spider’s web of Midlevels crossing roads, flyovers and underpasses. In desperation I phoned the Pioneering Accountant in the office and begged for help. With assistance from Google maps he talked me through it. When I finally hit Bonham Road I had to turn left. The address I needed required a right. I gave up in disgust and drove home.

By hesitating and dithering I have discovered parts of Hong Kong and the New Territories I had no intention of visiting. Each outing in the car has been an adventure and each time I went wrong I was sure I wouldn’t make that particular mistake again. Others maybe. The children quickly grew accustomed to my predicament and learnt to ask as a matter of course, Are we lost Mummy? Good gracious me, no! I would insist. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Yes, Mummy, the last time we were lost.

The real dramas took place on journeys to the furthest reaches of the New Territories where the 7 year old was learning to ride. I took to following the school bus so we could learn the way. The bus driver was incredibly speedy and was armed with the requisite Autotoll. I had a hard job keeping up with him as he shot through the tolls whilst I fumbled for change and waited for the four cars ahead of me to find theirs too. On one occasion, the bus long gone, we took the wrong exit and found ourselves stuck in a tsunami of heavy goods vehicles heading for the border. I could hardly swing a U-turn whilst hundreds of one-way freight trucks bore down on me and yet we didn’t actually want to go to China. I nudged my 7 year old out of the car and told him to make sorrowful faces at an official. He returned to the car with a guard who arranged to have us led out of danger under police escort and flashing blue lights. The 7 year old was thrilled.

I taught the children how to use the “Maps” function of my iPhone. Sometimes we’d arrive at our destination without incident and with a degree of luck. Sometimes the battery ran out en route and left us floundering about in tiny back streets. But mostly I ended up snatching it from whichever incompetent was in the passenger seat and trying to read directions while I missed turnings and started to snap. And very occasionally but quite inexplicably, the road we were mistakenly following would turn back on itself and filter us onto just the route we’d been hoping for.

Once I’d got over barking at map reading minors it finally dawned on me that we could never actually be that far from home. Even in Kowloon you can see landmark buildings on Hong Kong-side. At best you will recognise the signs to where you want to go and at worst you’ll end up in a tunnel you didn’t mean to enter. But keep going long enough and you usually end up back where you started.

And when I grew over confident about where I was going I was stopped for speeding. The fact that I had neither HK I.D. nor driving license with me did not look good. I tried to explain to the baffled policeman that my driving license had been submitted in support of my application for a Hong Kong license. He in turn explained to me I was due to get three points and an on the spot fine of HK $450. I was busy being very polite while reaching for my wallet when he suddenly announced he was just going to give me a verbal warning and let me go. Your case was too complicated for him to deal with, crowed my HK passenger. It’s ex-pat women like you that the police are most afraid of as they always stand their ground. You got away with it!

A letter came recently headed Evasion of Toll. It stated that on such and such a date my vehicle had travelled through the Autotoll booth of the Aberdeen Tunnel without a valid toll tag. My hands began to shake. A driver who fails to pay the appropriate toll in full commits an offence, the letter continued. Please arrange the Total Outstanding payment as below within 14 days. Bang goes my fake Birkin, I thought to myself, I’m about to spend it on a fine. I looked again. The Amount Outstanding was given as HK$5.00 – the tunnel fee and not a cent more.

Take away the cost of the postage stamp at HK$1.40 and I think you’ll agree that a bargain tunnel crossing at HK$3.60 is something of a result.