The Chinese Driver - Part 1

He was short and stocky and hardly spoke any English. But his expertise in maneuvering this gigantic tour bus around Chinatown was unbelievable. I must admit that I had my doubts that this foreigner would be able to drive this huge tour bus that would take me and 60 others back to Newport News from New York City without any casualty.

It was a cold, chilly and windy day. Strong gusty winds brought flurries that swirled around the bus as we passed through New Jersey. I was seated on seat number 3, while Kristina and Alexa sat behind the driver on seats number 1 and 2. From my own seat I saw everything that he did and heard everything he said, except that it was purely Mandarin. He talked nonstop since we left the terminal. He would take out his cell phone, dial the numbers and then through the speaker phone he would be engaged in a very exciting conversation. With one hand on the steering wheel, he used the other in gesturing or to cover his mouth to conceal a chuckle. Before he would dial another number, he would take out a cigarette, light it up one-handedly and start puffing the minutes away. He was talking so loud that rows one through ten could hear every word spoken. Nobody complained. We all decided that it was better that he smoked or talked less he fall asleep while driving this 7 hour journey.

We stopped for gasoline halfway through New Jersey and the driver went to buy a plateful of fried chicken, french fries, an apple and orange juice. This was the beginning of my watchful vigil of his driving. When the bus rolled away from the gas station he started his smoking ritual and loud conversation to an anonymous person somewhere beyond the blue. From his gestures and big chuckles one can deduce that it could be a close friend or buddy whom he is sharing his conversation with. After an hour or so, he put away his cell phone and decided to take out his plate of food. With only one hand on the steering wheel, he started to devour his food with the other hand. I took it as my responsibility to watch the road for any impediment. I could tell his dexterity was worth praising but nonetheless I was petrified that he would choke or be distracted while chewing on the bones.

My seat mate took out her rosary and started saying her “Hail Mary’s” between sighs and quiet complaints of “Oh my God”. I turned my back and I could tell tension and apprehension was raising because almost everyone have been observing him and wishing in silence that he would concentrate on his driving. Nonetheless, nobody aired any complaints. After all, we had no choice. He was our driver and he was the one and only one who was qualified to bring us home. This went on for another two hours or so.

An hour later, he diverted from Highway 95 and took the country road. At this time, thicker snow flurries were swirling around and the wind gusts were stronger. I could feel the bus swaying and yet the driver was still speeding at 75 to 80 miles. I was relieved that there were only a few cars on the road. I started shaking my head and turned around as one of the back seat passengers said, “I hope you are watching for us and alert us if he is sleepy. I then realized that everyone of his passengers were vigilantly observing his driving prowess and just silently praying we would arrive home safe. His smoking moments resumed and once again he took out his cell phone and started dialing numbers. This time, he was not in a chuckling mood. He was mad and fuming in anger to whomever was on the other line. With one hand on the steering wheel, his other hand was up in the air making fist-fighting gestures as he talked through his ear piece. He was screaming!

Tune in next week for the final installment of this story!

By Raylene Baumgart