Chauffeur

Over the past weeks, thanks to my schedule freeing up and other circumstances, I have been designated the family driver and have thus been driving my family around a lot. I have jokingly suggested in the past that becoming a full-time taxi driver appealed to me, so this did not bother me in the slightest. Being in a car and operating it is like entering a new world, one with different laws and rules for governing your existence. It is a lens through which we can experience familiar surroundings anew. And most of the time, getting behind the wheel of a powerful machine can be so much fun.

Being my family’s chauffeur involves taking my younger brother to and from his carpool meet-up point, taking my mom to and from the office, and accompanying my dad on his various errands. Of course, apart from this, I drive myself around to whatever shenanigans I have on my plate.

I have spent much time on the road, been exposed to the urban jungle and its inhabitants from my unique observation pod, and have come to this conclusion: Filipino drivers are a ferocious species whose sole purpose is getting to their destination, and God help you if you get in their way. They fight everyone and everything, each other, the elements, time itself, and even themselves.

Theirs is an antagonistic attitude toward the rest of the world; the slightest perceived slight is met with blaring horns, muttered curse words and steely glares. Sound and fury signifying nothing, perhaps, but a distinct impression that Filipino drivers are impatient and quietly belligerent. Not road rage, thankfully, but road pride, which is a different level of worse. One instance of being “wronged” and they turn as quickly as the wheel they steer. Watch them when confronted by another driver, a transgressor who, say, tried to cut in. Curse words are let loose, full of self-righteous venom. Then they bellow loudly, a 30-second blast from their car horn meant to repel, but ultimately to herald the arrival of their archrival. At least not all are driven (pun intended) to eject themselves from their seats and seek a confrontation outside of their vehicle.

Basically, the Filipino driver lives by just one rule: Don’t get in my way. All possible situations and circumstances fall under this rule. Don’t overtake me. Don’t try to cut in while I’m in line. Don’t honk your horn at me. Don’t drive too fast next to me. Don’t drive too slow in front of me. Don’t try to cross in front of me.

Don’t tell me what to do, traffic cop. Motorcycle, don’t. Oh, and you, too, pedestrian, don’t even think about it. Don’t you dare change, green light! You may be a one-way street today, but I’ll find a way to drive all over you next time!

If there is such a thing as “Filipino hospitality,” its opposite reigns on the road.

But not all Filipino drivers are this villainous. No, not all of them are villains. There are courteous people who drive on the right side of the road, allow others to cross in front of them, and obey traffic rules and regulations. They’re the ones in the slow lane, left in the dust of those who have dared to take what is rightfully theirs.

Filipino drivers must get to their destination on time. Even if it is in Quezon City on a Monday and they leave Makati 30 minutes before their ETA. That just gives him/her the authority to zigzag between lanes and put the pedal to the metal. What’s that you say? They could have left earlier, given themselves more time to get to where they’re going and thus could have driven with less reason to break the rules? Suuuuuure.

Traffic rules and regulations are mere suggestions that Filipino drivers may avail themselves of, if these will not impede the journey. They’ll stay in the proper lane only if no one else will. No parking? Just tip the street attendant or security guard well enough and you’ve got the equivalent of the Free Parking space on the Monopoly board.

The best part? They will justify their actions with all of their being. “Because I’m late” and “Because of my job” are the most common mantras. When the authorities catch up to them, they’re repentant and apologetic. While they’re trying to get out of it, they beg and plead for mercy. When they’re done? They’re just annoyed that they were delayed even more.

I don’t know if Filipino drivers are a lost cause. I do know that they are not an endangered species. On the road, their brand of driving is dangerous. The gestation period is about a year or two, or about as long as it takes for the infected to learn the “rules of the road.”

Admittedly, I am part of this hostile entity. I have had my fair share of rage-fueled outbursts in the family car. My only hope is that I, we, will sober up sooner than later of our own accord and not because of an unfortunate accident or brush with the law. After all, if it takes only one perceived wrong to turn into a madman, it also takes just one instance to instantly regret it.

Justin Favis, 24, graduated from Ateneo de Manila University in 2010 and is between jobs.