There’s been a fun discussion on Adventures in Ankara following a post about car parking in Turkey. I’ve written before about the sheer insanity of driving in Turkey as have many, many others. It’s a story that just runs and runs. It’s de riguer for death wise drivers to dart along pot-holed roads, jump lights and overtake on blind bends while happily playing with their overused horns loudly and often. Indicating is what girls do. This is all hard-wired into the Turkish macho psyche. The Adventures in Ankara post and ensuing debate reminded me of a recent conversation I had with Aziz, the owner of Jack’s Bar, a friendly and unpretentious establishment hereabouts. We were supping and chewing the cud when a call came through to his head waiter. He was told he’d passed his driving test. Naturally, there was a round of rapturous applause, a celebratory jig, multiple back slapping and drinks all round (like I need an excuse). Aziz had been helping his young apprentice with driving lessons. I turned to Aziz and said.
“Great news. Now he can go out on his own.”
“No, he can’t drive yet,” Aziz replied, inscrutably.
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