The morning following my “Beach Day” started off with a festive morning alarm clock of small marching bands passing the hotel, the continuation of auspicious wedding ceremonies the night before.    The energy of this music motivated me to get an early start and I headed off to a rental shop on Mission Street and rented a motorcycle.

 

So many of my previous days had been given a literary based theme and today it was either going to be a Robert Pirsig, “Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance” or a T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) day.   The difference was in my first choice of the day:  Which motorcycle - Honda or Royal Enfield.    T.E. Lawrence spent time after the war roaring around the British countryside on an Enfield motorcycle.   Pirsig famously traveled across much of the US in “Zen” on more simple motorcycle.    Not having ridden a motorcycle in 15 years, I opt for the less powerful Honda.   Later on I would remember that Lawrence died on his Enfield when he lost control going around a corner and ran into an oncoming car.   Fixing a Honda on the side of the road seemed like a better theme.

 

Thematic elements finally resolved, I hesitantly and cautiously left central Pondy.    The road rules as far as I could interpret are the following:

 

Stay to the left. The farther to the left you are the more safe you are.

 

Size matters.   The bigger the vehicle the more inherent the right of way. 

Pass on the right,  passing on the left is dangerous because people move to the left when someone is passing them, usually.

 

Your horn is your voice and you are expected to constantly be jabbering to your fellow travelers.  Honk when passing, when coming to a corner or blind turn, when irritated, when indicating it is safe to be passed etc.   But don’t cry wolf with your horn, that only earns you a look that can only be interpreted as “Foreigners should not be allowed to drive/ not be allowed to visit”.

 

40 km/h is fast enough.   

 

“Speed Bumpers” are often not marked, it is your responsibility to detect and these and potholes and cattle guards and piles of rice in the road.

 

Traffic control devices are advisory only.  If it is a red light and the other side isn’t moving then go for it.   Same goes with traffic control police, be polite but remember they are “civil servants” and your taxes pay their salary, allowing you to decide who goes or stops.

 

Those are the jungle rules as I understood them.    Next is the taxonomy of vehicles in the genus Vehiculus Indus:

 

Buses:   Buses rule the road.   They are the undisputed masters of everything.   They define modern juggernaut.  Get out of their way or else.  Government buses are the worst.

 

Lorries:  These large trucks are only slightly less dangerous than lorries.  I have seen lorries intimidated to the left by a bus on occasion.    Truck drivers do have a sense of helpful obligation to smaller vehicles if they come up behind them and honk in a way that means “I want to pass you”.  The driver will frequently motion with his arm out the window when it is safe to pass.

 

SUV:  These species seem to have recently been imported from another continent and have spread across the plains and hills of the Indian subcontinent faster than killer bees have swarmed the Americas.   Their air-conditioned interiors isolate the driver from their surroundings making them a creature to watch with caution while driving.

 

The Ambassador:  These tiny cars have an inferiority complex on the road.   They will buzz around insistently demanding their perceived right to be at the head of the pack.  The taxis are too old and underpowered to dominate and the little white ones with the squealing red siren are senior government employees wondering why nobody gives them the respect they deserve.

 

The Super Small:  There are two philosophies for getting through congested traffic.   Drive a massive vehicle and scare everyone into getting out of your way or drive a small vehicle that can fit through the gaps in the jams.   Since a bus is not an affordable family vehicle, many opt for the smallest cars made by Maruti/Suzuki/Tata/Ford.   These vehicles would be a tin coffin on super fast American roads, but they are quite useful in narrow, slower Indian roads.

 

3 Wheelers:      This class is the auto-rickshaw and the 3 wheeled truck.   These slow moving creatures fill the roads, gaining in volume with proximity to a town or city.  2 cycle bliss at 30 km/h.

 

The Bike:  This is the common vehicle of India.   They are everywhere and carry as many people as can, in any possible way, climb aboard.  There are three general varieties:  Large bikes, Enfields and larger Honda’s.  Harley’s would be too wide and expensive for India.   Small bikes:  Honda trail bikes and small engine jobs.  Affordable and ever-present.  This was my choice of wheels.  Scooters:  Zippy little items with the handy area designed for feet, but useful as a substantial cargo area.

 

The Oxcart:  They don’t have horns and they don’t move fast.  The driver rarely has his hands on the reigns.  The oxcart poses the poses daring questions to other drivers:  What would it feel like to collide with a pile of lumber?   Don’t expect them to move out of your way or otherwise acknowledge your existence.  They were in India long before petrol power and should be given their literal Brahmin respect.

 

Bicycle:  Yea, whatever.   Eat dirt or die.   The bicycle may have the numbers in most area, but they are impotent in regards to everyone except pedestrians.  Even stray goats can cause a cyclist to have to abandon his course.

 

Pedestrians:  Usually stay safely to the side on open roads, but will walk wherever in the city.  Be nice to them, you may be related to them in a past life.

 

Cows:  These animals are here to try our patience.  Expect them to be on the road in a place where they are least expected.

 

Other animals: Goats, chickens, elephants are all common sights on the road.   Good thing about India is that there are a lot of vegetarians who don't believe in killing, and that includes you and the zoo you are sharing the road with.

 

 

Of course I know everything I need to know about driving in India.  Heading down the East Coast Road towards Chennai, my first destination is Auroville.   This place was setup in 1968 by “The Mother”, the spiritual companion of Sri Aurobindo who had an ashram in Pondy.  The community is designed to be a model community where religion is absent and people from all backgrounds and nations live and work in peaceful harmony.  The French woman running the cafeteria and yelling at the Indian employees pretty much summed up the place for me.   In my humble opinion creating harmony in even a small part of the larger world is a greater accomplishment than creating an insular community in the wilderness that proclaims to have harmony.

Narrow roads in Auroville.

 

Leaving Auroville I wandered around through country roads for many, many miles.  

 

It was amazing to get away from the highway and see fields stretching into the distance. 

 

This picture could easily have been taken 80 years ago, remove the power lines and it could be 200 years ago.

 

I was riding past the field that these women were working in and they all started screaming and running towards me.  I thought that maybe my Honda was on fire or something.   Silly me, they just wanted some of my money.   110 rupees later and I am suddenly a farm subsidy specialist.  I believe them when they say that they work all day in a watermelon field and don't make enough money to live off of.

 

Temples and mountains and tourist attractions aside, I had a wonderful time just driving down these endless country roads.

 

The women working this rice paddy did not want their picture taken.  After I took it I realized why, what women would want their picture taken when they are up to their knees in muck with a bale of muddy rice on their head?

 

By late afternoon I meandered back to Pondy.  At one point a sign said that I was 14 km away, but I kept turning down side roads and it took another couple of hours to get back.  

 

Once back in town I stopped by Hot Breads, a French bakery.  Settling down with my new addiction, Lime Soda - Sweet, I listened to the American music they were playing on the stereo, starting with "Country Roads".  I prefer to John Denver original, but this one had the same effect.

 

Life is old there
Older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Growin’ like a breeze

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
...

I hear her voice
In the mornin’ hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin’ down the road I get a feelin’
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

 

 

I step out into the warm evening breeze, the festivities in Pondy are reaching a fever pitch around me, my mind swirling with thoughts of home and my body energized by the drums, trumpets and crowds around me.  It was 6:00 PM but I still had miles and miles to go before I rested.