Riding in Cars with (Asian) Boys
I don’t remember the Drew Barrymore film but my brain is young enough to recall recent events quite clearly. I want to make sure I set this up right: There’s this stereotype - obviously proliferated by mainstream North American media - that Asians are bad drivers. And there’s the icy roads of metro DC’s coldest winter in ten or so years.
In the past three months, I’ve been in cars with at least two Asian boys (or Asian Americans or Americans of Asian descent - Alvin, help me out with this well-intended attempt at political correctness) who both claim that everyone else is a horrible driver. It is unclear to me whether they meant everyone in the USA, in the East Coast, in metro DC, or in Virginia. As far as I could tell, their only claim to driving expertise is that they both own two cars - two Cadillacs and two other expensive brands/makes that I cannot be bothered to recognize. These days all I care about are seat warmers.
D., who has spent most of his 3 decades traveling the world, has a good head on his shoulders. This explains why he bothered to qualify his statement - “Everyone thinks the key to driving in snow is just to drive slow; it’s not. You just need to hit the breaks early and slowly.” He demonstrates as a bus from several yards in front of us hits an intersection and true to his method he follows suit. Obviously, this guy has foresight. Except that one time he had to drive the few remaining miles home while he was very drunk. He tells me about growing up in Spain and a recent trip to Peru, talking slowly and purposefully as if we’re out at sea and he’s struggling not to take in too much water.
A., who talks fast and who often drives with one hand on the steering wheel, has never left the United States since he entered it as an infant. Born in Asia but raised as a true American boy by Caucasian parents - the only set he’s ever known… I’m sure there’s a terrible but compelling story here somewhere but it’s hard to get to it. It’s buried under a thick Northern PA accent and even thicker arms - the kind you rarely find on men from my side of the world. I’ve seen him drive through snow, rain, but never heat. He drives as he talks about local bands he grew up with who are hitting it big in certain markets and making money and his dog and Philly Cheesesteaks and Korea town in NYC and his other unbelievably local experiences. I’ve seen him pull up to my curb and I’ve watched his car drive away. I’ve paid for his parking in DC; have waited as he parked in a relatively quiet road in Astoria, Queens. Together, we have shared the experience of running two very cold blocks from Whole Foods to his car as he carried 100 bucks worth of groceries. He’s driven me through and in several states*: DC, MD, VA, NJ, NYC and have left me short text messages from PA and all the others. Oddly, the oddball has never driven me drunk; he doesn’t do that anymore. He was supposed to teach me how to drive but he never gave me any driving advice. I gave him one that might end up saving him a bullet through the head one day - “No matter how stupid you think other drivers are, unless they’re in your way, they are not your problem.” All I wanted was for him to shut up (and the rest of the time, to never stop talking). A. talks fast and used his other hand to hold on to me, as if I was a part of the machine that was taking us miles closer to where he wanted to be.
*Regrettably, does not include Vegas
#firstworldchismis
