Paint Job

The more low-status a vehicle in Bangladesh, the more likely it is to have been intricately painted. Buses come a close second to lorries as riots of amateur colour, frequently bearing slogans of the painter's choice - usually religious, sometimes political.

Of course, the, um, acrobatic nature of driving in Bangladesh (where might is right on top of you) means that buses get to barge all other comers out of the way, leading to some uncomfortably close encounters.

It's quite terrifying, as a driver, to find yourself in a canyon of hot, dented steel, each wall of which is being driven by someone whose wing-mirrors may not give him, urm, an entirely full view of his surroundings (ie: you). Happily, they are driving ever forwards, meaning that a close encounter with a bus generally does you no more damage than you'd usually get from inhaling a gallon or two of carbon monoxide, as the buses sweep across you in a cloud of poorly-burned diesel. Head spinning, you are left with the dizzy impression of having been assaulted by an absent-minded stegosaurus with 'God Is Love' painted on its back.

Or, as the case may be:




I agree. No, really. But a driving school would still, I suggest, do wonders.