Sharing the road

I’m on my bicycle on a hunt for ice this morning when, as I’m turning onto the main road, I have to wait for one those times when there are motorcycles driving three across and coming down the street in rapid succession to pass. In a few minutes I’m able to keep moving and I pass another motorcycle whose driver doesn’t seem to know where he wants to go. I realize the driver is wearing one of the t-shirts students at my school wear for gym class and it suddenly seems to make so much more sense to me.

There are very few driving laws here. At least, there are very few driving laws that are followed or enforced. What strikes (ie scares) me the most is the seeming lack of a minimum driving age for motorcycles. (For cars, which are much more rare here, you have to pass a driver’s ed class and have a license to drive) I’ve seen plenty of my late-teenaged students driving, but I’ve also seen  students in my 6eme class who I know to by 12 years old driving motos around the village.

Kids learn how to drive from their parents, brothers or their friends. Parents don’t argue because, frankly, the earlier someone learns how to drive, the earlier that person can run errands for the parent.

More than on the highway, being on the roads in village is sometimes like playing a real life game of Mario Kart. Rocks. Twisting turns. Goats. Pigs. Chickens. And 12-year-olds driving too fast.

Everyday is a new adventure for a bicyclist.