The Invisible Driver

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While we were cycling along a busy main road today, I gazed at the neverending whiz of cars flying by and likened them to sushi on a sushi train, but moving a hundred times faster. If sushi moved a hundred times faster, you won’t be able to see the sushi inside anymore – you won’t know whether it is unagi, tuna sushi or an empty plate that some douche placed back on the conveyor belt. You’d probably only be able to see the colour of the sushi plates (they charge by colour) and guess roughly what is inside. It felt the same with the cars – you see a blue car, black, silver, silver, van… but you hardly ever get to see the people inside. You guess but you never know. It may be an old Chinese uncle. It might be a young Malay couple. If it is a shitty driver, maybe a female driver(Oh no I didn’t). The drivers are invisible.

When we cycle, we think of cars as merely cars. They are not the people inside driving them. Instead, they are a threat to us, things that we might die by. Cars are screens, opaque; they are walls, impenetrable. I tried to imagine the human beings inside those metal cages. I stripped away the car frame, the mechanical stuff that makes it work, the windows, the seats, the dashboard, and then the steering wheel. Imagine that. What was left was an androgynous humanoid, floating in the uniform position that a driver would be in (half squat, arms extended). I did this for all the cars I saw and got a picture of floating human bodies, all staring straight ahead in that uniform driver position, flying by.

Imagine that…

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