This antique Bedfored truck was still in service.
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This was my usual view when driving in town. The method of preference for getting through this
kind of traffic was to blow the horn and lurch forward to intimidate anyone blocking the way.
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One of the first phrases I learned in Bangla was, "slow down". At first the drivers didn't believe
me but they eventually learned to relax. The trips took no longer.
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School buses always interest me. Probably because I once had such a stressfull association
with them at Pinecrest Schools. In Dhaka, they were pedicabs.
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There was no regulation color for school buses but they all had the bars. Fortunately, there
are no hills in Bangladesh and certainly not in Dhaka.
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Even with fewer cars there were horrendous traffic jams.
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This was the only helmet that I saw in the city.
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When we would get back to the city early in the morning after a long shift on the road,
the streets would be blocked with cattle - in the middle of 10 million people.
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If we got started early, this is how the last street looked, before turning right to get to TWX.
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This is how the same street looked if we started late - which we usually did.
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A moto cab slammed into the back of this bus. The policeman asked us to take an injured passenger to the
hospital. We had time so I said we would. A mistake.
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Passersby just grabbed the injured man and lugged him to the van. They shoved him into the back seat and
I got in beside. I had clean rags to bind his head but he was bleeding so badly that they did no good. He
was shocky and unresponsive. He could still mumble so I kept him talking for the 30-minute ride to the
hospital. When we got there, the attendants just grabbed his arms and literally threw him onto some sort of
rolling cart. The edge split his skull and the blood poured out. We left.
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