When I was working for Conoco Taiwan in 1975–6, each big boss had his own driver (President, Chief Geologist, Chief Engineer, Administrative Manager).
The drivers were needed for the morning journey in to the office and the evening ride home, then perhaps during the day for various activities like meetings outside the office, squash and lunch at the American Club, or dinners/parties in the evenings. The rest of the time was spent sitting in the kitchen on standby (a lot of it discussing the situation with mainland China — I heard some interesting views; most of the Conoco Taiwan male staff were retired soldiers who’d gone over to Taiwan with Chiang Kai-shek, so they had family back there).
The Conoco Taiwan President straddled the Singapore and the Taipei offices, spending more of his time in the former than in the latter, so his driver Jimmy was at a loose end most of the time.
One day, he was so bored he suggested taking me to the Motor Vehicles Office on the outskirts of Taipei to get my Singapore driving licence converted to a Taiwanese one.
The process was very simple: eyesight test, colour blindness test, weight and height measurements. That was it. I got my Taiwanese driving licence within minutes of my arrival.
Jimmy then said, “Would you like to drive back into central Taipei?”
What a treat!
As soon as we left the Motor Vehicles Office, I was being careful to stay within my lane (of a six-lane motorway, three lanes each direction). So, I kept the dotted white line (that delineated the lanes) immediately to my right hand side, as a guidance for the space for my car, which is the best way if you’re not sure how wide your car is.
Unfortunately, the system in Taiwan is American, i.e., the steering wheel is on the left hand side of the car, and one drives in the right hand lane of the road. (I was brought up in Singapore, which uses the British system.)
By keeping the dotted white line immediately on my right, I ended up straddling two lanes, with the dotted white line running down the middle of the car. Jimmy had to reach out and steer the car into the middle of the lane on more than one occasion as I kept trying to keep the dotted white line on my right hand side, purely out of habit.
When I had to change gears, my left hand would go WHAM into the side of the door. The gear stick was on my right hand side now.
When I had to use the indicator while switching from one lane to another, I’d end up activating the windscreen wipers: SWIPE SWIPE SWIPE SWIPE across the front screen.
Everything was in the “wrong” place!
Luckily, this was late morning and Taipei of 1975, so there wasn’t that much traffic around.
Recalling this episode now, half a century later, I’m thinking not so much of the hazard I might’ve posed to the other drivers on the road. Rather, of how it might’ve confirmed the then-commonly-voiced opinion of “these women drivers”!
(Taipei, Taiwan, 1975)
