Driving I.Q.

In the past three short weeks, I think I've managed to cover almost every square inch of asphalt (and sand) on Abu Dhabi island.  And then some.

I've made it to work and back without a hitch (even if one of my recent 'shortcuts' turned out to be a diversion to Kuwait).  I've navigated the labyrinth of Mina Zayed, parked in the formidable Tourist Club Area, found my way to the Exhibition Centre at night despite carrying a self-professed expert navigator who managed to direct me towards the wrong exit twice (and I made it back), and I may be the first person to find the Khalifa City Police Station on the first try.  (The KCA Police Station is rather like the Kennedy Center -- there are signs everywhere in the city pointing towards it, until you get to within a block of the bugging place).

Like any city, Abu Dhabi has its share of traffic.  So circumnavigating the block to fill up your tank with gas will probably take a half hour.  Or more.  It's not really the time that bothers me; it's the complete and utter idiocy of the other drivers out there.

So I've invented a new term:  Driving I.Q., or "DIQ" for short (pronounced like dick).

Most of the drivers here have pretty small DIQs, which is ironic considering that the maneuvers they routinely practice likely have as their goal the opposite effect.  For instance:

Here I am, 50 metres from a red light, travelling at my snail-pace of 60 kph (the speed limit on most city roads).  And suddenly, a flash of colour passes me.  Some schmuck has increased his speed to 100 or so kph.  FIFTY metres from a red light.  Classic small DIQ maneuver.

Then there's the indicating problem.   It seems they don't actually teach people here about that little lever on the left of the steering wheel.  Result?  Nobody indicates.  This may in fact be a good thing, since the few people who do manage to push that little lever up or down promptly forget about its existence.  My recommended solution is this:  when you see an indicator light flashing, don't worry -- the driver isn't going to turn.  It's when you DON'T see one that you need to start worrying.

Finally, we have the horns.  I like to think of driving in Abu Dhabi as going to an orchestral concert -- except all the music is in the key of F.  After pondering the over-usage of the car horn for several hours, I think I've come up with a theory.  There don't seem to be many musical instruments here in the desert, so people aren't accustomed to being able to make noise using some sort of mechanical implement.  Until they get a car, that is.  Then - voila! - a musical instrument at the ready!  You don't buy it?  Fine.  Test the theory and disprove it.

I'll be waiting (in traffic).