What the Tuk Tuk?

by Greg Atkins (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown India

What the Tuk Tuk? Part One By Greg Atkins What the hell were we thinking? For the next two weeks my buddy Gary and I were driving up the coast of India, from Kochi to Jaisalmer in an auto rickshaw or as they are also known by the distinctive sound they make...the tuk tuk. We weren’t going to be passengers, oh no, we’d be the ones driving a vehicle with no doors, three wheels and prone to more breakdowns than a recent divorcee. It was a 3000km Indian adventure powered by a 145cc glorified lawnmower engine and we were absolutely not prepared. To be fair, we weren’t totally unprepared. We were part of the Rickshaw Run. An event where 80+ tuk tuks start at point A (Kochi in the state of Kerala) and, hopefully, end up at point B (Jaisalmer in the state of Rajasthan). The company, The Adventurists, provide the rickshaw, point us in the right direction and – well, that’s about it. (https://www.theadventurists.com/guides/rickshaw-run/) Okay, let’s be honest, we were totally unprepared. WHAT THE TUK? Ah, the tuk tuk! The vain-glorious, if ubiquitous taxi vehicle that you can hail throughout India. It is a mode of transportation that for a few rupees, will deliver a person to their destination on the mean streets of Mumbai -- and the streets are indeed mean in Mumbai, trust me. As the top speed is a mere 30kmh they were definitely not built for the major expressways, impassible dirt roads and foggy mountain passes that we would be facing. Also, from just the aerodynamic standpoint, the giant overloaded trucks and busses that would be zooming past us could wind-whip our little tin can across the road and off a cliff in the blink of an elephant's eye. Yet, we thought, what better way to meet the locals, enjoy a wide variety of street food and experience the unrivaled Indian scenery? So here we were. We figured either tragedy or hilarity would ensue. And since we were on this adventure to raise money for the charity Hilarity for Charity, we were counting on the later. We flew into Kochi at 3:30am expecting an empty airport – but that is one of the charms of India, it always defies expectations. The airport was alive with family and friends, perhaps a thousand strong, waiting for their loved ones to arrive. We made our way through the crowd to find a very polite young man with a welcome sign. The ride was courtesy of the owners of the Bastian Homestay. Our hosts George and Giny were waiting for when we arrived with a glass of fresh fruit juice and a room with wonderfully soft beds. (https://www.bastianhomestay.com/ - Prices $11.00 US a night.) We woke to the sound of the Muslim call to prayer and a cacophony of comically loud birds. I love that moment in travel where you lie in bed on the first day of being in a new reality and you realize that nothing will ever be the same – for you will forever see the world in a new way. The city of Kochi is like many Indian cities, a jumble of small shops, family run restaurants, wandering cows, aimless goats and the occasional elephant sauntering by. We didn’t have much time for sight-seeing as we needed to get to the parade grounds to meet our rickshaw, but we did see the famous Kochi Chinese Fishing nets, which were very underwhelming. They were – fishing nets – not much else to say. I assumed if I was a fish I’d be more impressed. But once at the parade grounds we met up with the other 80 odd tuk tuk teams (and some were very odd), filled out paperwork, decorated our rickshaws and prepared to drive off into the unknown. So with no GPS, no reliable maps and no AAA we tuk tuked out of Kochi and hit the road, and this being India, the roads hit back. It turns out that the Indian Highway Maintenance folks are not big on signage -- or maintenance. But as things quickly became apparent we didn’t need maps or signs or GPS -- we had 1.3 billion friendly Indians to help us find our way.