Our car

Our tiny car is officially called a Suzuki Wagon R 2000 model, but we’ve christened it the Eggbeater after the sound it makes when it’s beetling along the freeway at 100 (note to Japanese police: “beetling along at 100″ is just a figure of speech. Of course we wouldn’t dream of exceeding the pathetic 80 km speed limit by that much.)

The Eggbeater is what’s known variously as light, microlight or just “small car” in Japan. Small cars get tons of concessions like lower taxes, cheaper freeway charges and smaller bills for the compulsory biannual inspection. Even the car wash gives you a ¥100 discount! The Eggbeater is certainly compact but we can all fit in, plus there’s even space for a bag or two in the back.

Amazingly, the Eggbeater only has three gears—just like our 1962 vintage car at home. Fancy that: 40 years of technological progress, in the land of technology no less, and it’s still got just the three gears.

And how big is the engine under that tiny little bonnet, I hear you ask? Er, 650 cc. I’m told there are motorbikes with engines twice as big. Now you know why it sounds like an eggbeater, struggling up the hills with four lumbering great foreigners on board. It’s getting on too, is our Eggbeater; ten years old makes it almost vintage in Japan, where the punitive roadworthy regime effectively forces old cars off the road, but we only need it to hold out for two years. Just two more years, that’s all we ask.

Now I remember being told at my marketing course last year that women are better at reading prose while men are better at digesting lists. True to type, I love a good bullet-point list. So at the risk of being branded a misogynist, here is a list of random facts about driving in Japan.

• They drive on the left-hand side and the steering wheel is on the right—just like in Australia.

• Traffic lights are generally horizontal rather than vertical.

• There are only ever a couple of traffic lights at an intersection, at least around here. This can lead to the situation where you’re approaching an unfamiliar intersection, assuming that it doesn’t have signals, only to spot one at the last minute cunningly concealed on the far side. And what’s more, it’s red. Better chuck on the brakes.

• Speed limits are ridiculously low: 80 km/h on the freeway, 50 km/h on main roads, 30 km/h along local streets. Nobody takes much notice of the speed limits though; everyone goes around at about 10 or 20 km above the advertised speed. Which makes it particularly frustrating when you get stuck behind some person who insists on sticking to the limit. Let alone a farmer in a tiny tray-truck going at 30 km/h on a nice open country road, but at least you can generally overtake in the countryside.

• The traffic lights on the road to Sunami generally just flash yellow all the time on the main road and flash red (meaning Give Way) at the side roads. Some of them switch off altogether after about 11 at night. This means that you effectively get an uninterrupted run along the beach all the way home. What a great idea!

• There’s no such thing as on-street parking in Japan. The roads are thin and even when there’s two lanes, they’re both reserved for driving. Every shop and every house, every supermarket and bank, they all have to have parking spots. If you want to go to a shop that doesn’t have its own parking, then you have to find the nearest car park. The same if you want to visit a friend who hasn’t got a spare spot. Thankfully there are always plenty of car parks around although you have to pay, even in sleepy Mihara.

• The taxi drivers here are as bad as anywhere else. Already we’ve nearly crashed a couple of times into taxis that just pull out in front of fast-moving traffic like, like, I don’t know, like bloody taxi drivers.

And to finish with, here’s my favourite traffic light.

Look closely… what do you notice? It’s a red light… but you’re permitted to turn left, or turn right, or indeed continue straight ahead. Presumably the only thing you’re not allowed to do is to reverse into the car behind you. Which I figure I don’t really need a traffic light to tell me.