Word: driver
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...metaphors are endless: the headless horseman, the rudderless ship, the car without a driver. Whatever your fancy, each and every one applies to this faculty during this "interim" year. While Judith Ryan, the Weary professor of Germanic languages and comparative literature, proclaimed on this page last June, "As a faculty, we are committed to finding a new way. We continue to move forward energetically," the lackluster progress made over the last semester has proven otherwise...
...Asian cities are noisy but few approach the sprawling mega-cities of South Asia - Bombay, Dhaka, Delhi - for sheer racket. It seems almost compulsory in south Asia to use your horn constantly. On a recent visit to Dhaka, Bangladesh, I noticed that the taxi driver I hired had worn smooth a spot on his steering wheel where his right thumb rested and pressed the horn incessantly as he weaved through traffic. In India and Bangladesh, turn signals and rear mirrors are for sissies. Drivers are responsible for what's ahead of them, not what's behind. Many studiously ignore vehicles...
...illegal, but in any case obedient Australians would never dream of testing the authorities' patience. In Bangladesh a hospital seems to be an invitation to make as much noise as possible. Outside a hospital in Dhaka, waiting to interview an academic who was temporarily incapacitated, I noticed each driver in line to get into the small drop-off area was letting off steam by blasting their horns and shouting abuse at the people ahead of them. Conducting it all was a guard with a piercing metal whistle which never left his mouth. "Not the most peaceful place," agreed TIME...
...driver barrels past the building and our security - a pickup full of militia gunmen - follows in our 60 mph dust cloud. The car bounces over several massive potholes, and suddenly we're looking out at the sea over a rocky harbor where a couple of rusted tankers lie in water the color of malachite. The skeleton of a large building looms on a headland overhead. "The Aruba Hotel," says Fanah. "This was once the eighth or the ninth finest hotel in Africa." The tour continues...
...another of our drives. Then he points out the sturdy walls left standing in a destroyed building. "That is the places of the lunatics," he says grinning. "It was full of mad people. But now it is empty. Why not? The people outside are mad also." He slaps the driver's leg on the punchline and for a split-second I wonder whether the pair of them are laughing hard enough to crash. But then the driver guns the engine, and we flash past more ruins. "Somalis are very serious people," says Fanah...