By Teo Cheng Wee

Two weeks ago, I had a terrifying encounter with road rage on a Sunday afternoon as I was driving to work.

On the road ahead of me, which was converging from two lanes to a single lane, an MPV was honking furiously and trying to drive a taxi off the road. That's right, drive it off the road. Like in Miami Vice.

Thank goodness then that this wasn't Miami Vice. For if not the taxi would have turned turtle and flown off the flyover, and the MPV would have rammed into an oil truck and caused a mega explosion that would incinerate all the vehicles following behind. And there would be no column from me today.

But that is not to say what transpired didn't cause my heart to lodge itself in my throat for a good 20 seconds.

The MPV attempted its insane action movie sequence just as the the road was narrowing. It accelerated suddenly, got right up next to the taxi when the road was just slightly wider than one lane, and then attempted a manoeuvre that even Lewis Hamilton wouldn't dare try, as it squeezed past the taxi in the face of oncoming traffic before cutting across the taxi's path and braking suddenly, forcing it to stop.

My view was partially blocked by a van in front of me, but I could see the driver storm out and scream at the taxi driver.

This insane display of road rage was so bewildering I half expected the MPV driver to drag the cabbie out and beat him to a pulp with his golf club. But nope, just good ol' berating and hand gesturing.

By this time, the traffic behind had swiftly built up into a 100m queue behind me. I got impatient and started honking (softly, in case the MPV driver decided to use his golf club on me instead).

When he finally finished his piece, he got in and drove off. And life went on as if nothing happened.

I don't know what prompted that moment of madness - and this was the most extreme example I have witnessed since I started driving regularly six months ago - but there is something about the Singaporean driving experience that seems to just make my blood pressure shoot up.

(By the way, I don't condone the driver's action. In fact, I'm mad because of his actions.) In the past, when people told me that Singaporeans were horrible drivers, I said they were exaggerating. You should go see the drivers in Thailand, Egypt and India before you judge the drivers here, I said.

Yet, these days the only times I shout vulgarities out loud is in my car: When people cut into my lane, when they don't give way to me although I'm running out of roads to switch lanes, when they honk at me the nanosecond the light turns green.

My theory is that Singaporean drivers are sandwiched between third- and first-world driving habits - and end up inheriting the worst traits of both.

From the less developed countries, we get the "go, go, get out of my way" mentality because we're busy making money and we're five minutes late. From the more developed countries, we inherit the need to follow rules, stick to your own lane and signal before turning.

What we eventually develop is the fusion "go, go, get out of my way, but don't YOU dare cut into my lane because it is my lane and by the way, why didn't you signal before you wanted to come in" mentality.

Indeed, for all the crazy traffic in less developed countries, there is also a lot of give and take. Drivers actually stop for pedestrians at busy roads, even if it's the drivers' right of way. In more developed countries, people really follow traffic rules - not try to sneakily circumvent them.

I don't claim to have a magical solution, but one thing may be worth trying (and if everyone does this, it might actually work). Since city driving is the most maddening, I've found that plugging in my iPod and taking the MRT to town can be a surprisingly soothing experience.

Now if only I can get the passengers to move to the centre of the carriage.

This article was first published in The Straits Times on Oct 26, 2008.

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