A Beijing street scene

As I was (belatedly) setting off on my run on Saturday afternoon, I passed an interesting bit of street theatre unfolding right outside my apartment building. I was tempted to abandon my exercise regime so that I could stay and enjoy it all, but..... I really can't afford to miss too many more days of running.

A pedicab (a sort of tricycle rickshaw arrangement: the cheapest form of local hire transport; though not that common in central Beijing, other than the slightly upmarket ones that cater to tourists) ferrying a frail old lady somewhere had - apparently - swerved across the road (having been on the wrong side of the road - a very common offence for Beijing cyclists, who seem convinced that their own convenience is far more important than any considerations of general safety), and was very nearly hit by a black Audi. I couldn't see any evidence of injury or damage to any of the parties, but it had evidently been a very close call and the pedicab guy was fuming about it.

Now, as far as I could infer, it was the pedicab that had been entirely in the wrong. However, none of the many bystanders gathering to watch the stormy confrontation was likely to take the Audi driver's side - and neither was I.

These black cars are the curse of Beijing. Luxury sedans, all in gleaming, glossy black, with completely blacked-out windows; usually Audis, or some other flash imported brand; reputedly the official vehicles of upper-level Party cadres. However, not even Beijing has that many senior cadres. There are thousands upon thousands of these fucking things. I imagine that a lot of people are merely posing as senior cadres. A lot of these sinister black cars, I think, are driven by, for example, a relatively lowly official who just happens to have become more-than-decently rich by virtue of holding a modest but influential position in a local planning department somewhere. Or his dodgy brother-in-law who owns a building supplies company which wins a lot of valuable government contracts. Yep, these are the guys who are bleeding the country dry; complete c*nts, the lot of them, and everybody knows it. You can always tell the type (on the rare occasions they leave the protective anonymity of their black-window cars): all sharp haircuts and sunglasses and genuine Lacoste polo shirts (rather than the cheap local fakes that everybody else settles for). They're all swagger and bluster and bullying ("Hey, don't mess with me; I know people, people who could make life very unpleasant for you."); they think they own the bloody country (well, they do), and that the little people are just there to stroke their egos by being in awe of them. They are universally hated, but universally feared.

Our pedicab guy, though, was undaunted. He was a typical "old Beijinger" - tatty old jumper and a cracked leather jacket that looked as though it might date back to The War Of Resistance Against Japanese Agression (as WWII is quaintly styled around here), huge paunch, chain-smoker, world-class swearer. Beijingers have a reputation for being irreverent, bloody-minded, truculent; they all love to slag the government and 'the system' off in conversation any chance they get, but that bravado soon evaporates when they're actually confronted with one of these 'connected' guys, these black sedan bastards. But our working class hero felt wronged, and was damn well going to get satisfaction. He had prised the Audi driver out of his car, and was haranguing him in the middle of the street.

Confrontations over petty traffic accidents are a common sight in Beijing (lots of cars, very poor standards of driving; hence, hundreds, perhaps thousands of minor shunts every day). There seems to be an ingrained belief (I doubt if it's actually a law, but it's the rule everyone seems to follow) that you should not move your car after an accident - any accident - until the police come. The police might take a very long time to come. Sometimes they might not come at all. The two drivers have to sort matters out for themselves. Probably one of them will be manifestly at fault, and will eventually agree some on-the-spot compensation (since we're rarely talking about more than a scratch or a dent or a broken tail-light, it'll be a matter of a few hundred kuai). Most of these transactions are pretty trivial, but there's an awful lot of pride invested in them - the crazy Chinese notion of maintaining 'face'. These heated exchanges in the middle of the road can drag on for hours. Literally hours. It is one of the major causes of the hopeless traffic congestion in this city.

The black sedan drivers, though, are scary motherf*ckers. People don't usually take them on; and if they do, they are soon intimidated into backing down. The pedicab man's storm of fury was an unusual, inspiring sight, a one-man 'peasants' revolt'. I had hoped the argument might still be raging when I got back from my run 90 minutes later - but alas, no. I imagine that the Audi driver, with his path completely blocked by the errant pedicab and an unsympathetic crowd forming around him, will have decided to buy his way out of trouble by reaching into his fake leather clutch-purse (they all have them; another of China's fashion oddities) and pulling out one or two 100 yuan notes. On the other hand, if he was seriously 'connected', he may just have summoned the police to come and kick the shit out of the pedicab guy. I do hope it was the former.