He is outwitted; the blue taxi suddenly swerves a few inches left then sharply cuts right again, neatly countering the other taxi and blocking his attempt.
It is a normal routine in Taipei traffic, especially among taxi drivers, but this particular deft maneuver is different. The driver of the blue Yue Loong is Sung Fu-mei, one of a growing number of female taxi drivers in Taiwan.
In Taiwan as in other parts of the developed world, women are entering professions long considered the domain of men. One of the more recent shifts in this respect is the rise of equal opportunity employment in the field of driving taxis. The phenomenon is still rare enough, however, to surprise and interest commuters.
At first glance Sung's taxi strikes a passenger as being a cut neater than most, but otherwise not particularly different from over 50,000 other taxis on the road. Because of Taiwan's recent growth in wealth, the older, knee-banging backseat spaces and low ceilings are almost a thing of the past. The streets are full of new automobiles. Even though the locally-made Yue Loong rides a little rougher in the back than some other models, overall it is a comfortable enough ride.
One disadvantage of sitting in front when riding with others politeness calls for paying the fare.
The early evening trip is made even more enjoyable, however, by the attitude of the driver. No cloud of cigarette smoke assails the nostrils, nor are the eardrums numbed by a blaring rendition of "1001 Variations on Electric Guitar and Accordion," which seems to be one of the favorite on-the-road choices for Taipei's taxi drivers. Instead, after hearing the passenger's destination in the northeastern suburb of Neihu, Sung turns a lightly permed head toward the backseat, blinks quickly behind gray-rimmed glasses, and softly says: "There is a new detour set up along the way near Shihlin—I'm afraid that might not be a good route. Do you mind if we use the freeway? It's a longer route, and would cost you a bit more money than usual, but it will save lots of time, I can assure you."
Even as she speaks, the rider can see her sharp eyes constantly sweeping the traffic on the road ahead and to the side. The request is unusual. Normally the passenger has no choice. Her suggestion is accepted, and her politeness prompts further conversation, made easier by raising an issue dear to all drivers: the absurdity of Taipei's traffic situation.
"Detours always cause big traffic jams," she says, "and I'm always glad to avoid them." She adds that at least the problem is less severe at night, which is her regular work time. "It's great driving at night," Sung says. "It's quiet, and there's less traffic. I get edgy driving in the daytime, but at night I feel fairly peaceful. Besides, passengers tend to go longer distances at night, which means higher fares. I've been doing this for ten years." Sung's reasoning is straight forward enough, but it raises the question of danger. Does she feel insecure about driving alone late at night?
"Actually, I feel safer driving at night-it's much safer than most people think," Sung says. But there are the occasional nasty types who inhabit the night, and she does encounter them from time to time. When that occurs, she has a standard approach. "I believe that my decent manners and own self-respect immediately get across to my passengers. Normally they wouldn't do anything improper to me even late at night. If some seem inclined to take a chance to harm me or my car, then I stop them before they do so. I tell them that I'm a hard-working woman who only wants to earn her daily share in this society-and if they want trouble, let t hem go somewhere else."
Despite her orientation, Sung does occasionally encounter unsavory situations. In fact, she was introduced to them early. Her first night on the road in her newly-purchased taxi, she picked up four young men who immediately began discussing a way to "get even" with some other gang of youth. Sung immediately told them it was her first day on the job and that she already had more than her share of difficulties; she implored them to lake another taxi if they wanted to continue with their "business." The four complied, and she dropped them off at a nearby corner to her great relief.
On another occasion, much later, she once picked up an early morning passenger who wanted to go to Luchou, a neighboring town. On the way, he asked Sung to detour to a temple on Mount Kuan Yin, where he wanted to cast wooden oracle pieces to see his chances for winning a lottery. Since the lottery was intensely popular at the time, Sung was not surprised by the request, and parked at the foot of the lane leading up to the small temple.
After a time, her passenger returned and they continued to Luchou. But Sung's suspicions were by now aroused, and she was convinced the man intended trouble. She braced herself by casually mentioning having just seen a police patrol car nearby, and her passenger responded by half jokingly asking what she would do if he was determined to rob her. She made it very clear that she would immediately drive him to the nearest police station. He just gave a weird laugh, and urged her to drive more quickly to his destination. When they finally arrived without any problems, he was only able to pay two thirds of the fare. Sung took it as quickly as possible, and sped away, glad at last to be rid of him.
Eye-hand coordination is essential in traffic flow that is similar to "a bizarre video game."
These circumstances are rare, but a smart driver can make them even less common by being observant. "It's true that there are plenty of chances to encounter trouble, but experience has taught me to identify a potential passenger's profession at first glance. Normally, if I spot something wrong before they get in, I'll just pass them by," she says.
Overall, Sung says that the attraction of the job is certainly greater than its hazards: "What I enjoy most about driving a taxi is that I have no boss over me. I'm my own master. Therefore, I can choose to drive whatever time I want. And it can be open-ended. I sleep until late in the morning and then get up and do the housework." The flexibility is especially important because Sung is a divorced mother of three school age children.
"After taking an afternoon nap and preparing dinner and the children's lunch boxes for the next day, I start working and won't finish until 3 or 4 a.m.," Sung says. The hours are not enviable, but at least they are flexible. "I won't drive if I don't feel like it. I can sleep instead. And I don't worry too much about personal recreation. To be frank, my job is my recreation. I like this work very much, and if nothing unexpected happens, I'm convinced that I'll keep on doing this as long as I can."
Being divorced means the domestic burden falls heavily on her shoulders. She is at first reluctant to talk about her ex-husband, but her sense of pride in bearing the responsibilities of a one-parent family is clearly evident. "To tell you the truth," she says, "my children only had one parent long before my divorce. I had to raise them single-handedly because my husband did not do his job at all. And instead of complaining, I try to give them an example of how to be a decent human being. It's a matter of conviction and principle. I'm proud to say that I'm very popular with my family, and besides, my usual monthly income of US$800 supports my family all right."
There are distinct advantages to being a female taxi driver, which also make the job more bearable. "Passengers tend to trust a female driver more than a male one, and in many cases boys like to entrust their girl friends with me," she says. "I think it's a real pleasure to listen to all kinds of people. And it can be amusing at times, too."
Other attractions to the job have less to do with being female than with the challenge of the streets themselves. Driving in Taipei is much like playing a bizarre video game; the traffic situations often do not seem a part of reality. But Sung is good at her job—and lucky. In ten years of driving, she has never had a serious accident. This seems a bit hard to swallow as she deftly cuts off a bus driver trying to move into her lane.
By this time, the half-hour trip to Neihu is nearly at an end. As her passenger disembarks, Sung insists on charging 75 cents less "because she circled a bit" when trying to find the right side street in an unfamiliar part of the suburb. After accepting the fare, Sung makes use of the stop to take some medicine. She has high blood pressure, and also suffers from lack of sleep and stomach and bladder problems-all ailments commonly suffered by taxi drivers.
She says she plans to take an early break tonight, and will now return home to nearby Hsinchuang. Today's schedule is different. She has driven all day and early in the evening to make up for being off the road for two nights when she attended a friend's wedding. "It's O.K. I arrange my own time. Who knows, after some rest, I may decide to come out again tonight," she says. With that comment and a quick smile, the blue Yue Loong cuts back into the fast lane to rejoin the mass of rolling metal heading back toward the center of the city, and Sung rejoins the 1,450 other female taxi drivers in Taipei in helping ferry the city's 2.5 million residents through the maze of local traffic.