I have officially concluded that my mother can never visit India.  During her rides through the narrow streets of Hoboken or wide avenues of Manhattan, there is an audible gasp when traveling under the speed limit with ample clearance – both of which are still uncomfortable to her.  Mother’s reaction to three motorcycles weaving in the 50cm gap between my taxi and the three wheeled scooter carrying eight passengers may produce a short scream.  Add the rule-free traffic circles, roundabouts, and rotaries with the rare (but fun) figure-8 version and we’re moving into the oxycontin & xanax cocktail epi-shots territory.

AAAhhh, click for video

I filmed the whole commute but uploads are slow so you only get the first 2 minutes minutes – I’ll finish the other movies later (including the “dodge herd of cows” moment).   The ride between the hotel and office lasts 15-30 minutes, depending on traffic.  Of course, when the commute is bad, it is really bad: one days was over 90 minutes.  I could have got out and bought from the street vendors.

The first day ride from the airport to hotel was pleasant too.  Smokey fog with 0.25km visibility, freeway driving, and tractors that don’t quite reach freeway speed.  And out of all of these journeys, I only saw one accident – in the fog on day one.  Looked pretty bad with the car busting off a big truck’s wheel and the car’s engine compartment now being used as a replacement, but apparently no injuries.  And a few seconds later – lost in the fog again.