Free From a Town on the Hudson by Yuko Koyano Page A

possible—and then he started recounting the money to make sure, like a slow bank clerk! What's more, no American passengers around me seemed to care about the driver's risky behavior. Almost unintentionally I turned to get a look at the oldest man in the group. I expected that elderly people, in general, should be expert in dissuading people from doing wrong, as I used to rely on my older brothers and sisters to take care of problems for me. The ruddy-faced old man noticed me and smiled and then nodded as if he fully understood what I wanted to ask him. Even if there were some differences between Americans and Japanese, I thought at that moment, we could have mutual understanding as human beings. I felt relieved at last. "Hey!" the old man bravely said to the driver on behalf of all the rest of the passengers, "Hey, you made money, did you?"
    On a bright morning in May 1990, near the middle of the downhill part of Fort Lee Road in New Jersey, my car was in a traffic jam because of some construction work. As cars slowed down on the slope, I could see the smoke of a cigarette rising from the slightly open rooftop window of the car ahead of me. The sunlight streamed through the gentle green leaves over the road. When I opened the windows, a fragrant breeze blew across my face. Some cars honked their horns. Most of the drivers passing by seemed to become irritated. I, too, became nervous in this irregular situation. When my car and the one behind mine proceeded to a level part of the road, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a handsome man smiling and holding something brown. He seemed to be playing a guitar while driving.
    After the experience with the bus driver, I wasn't surprised to see a driver doing something else while he was driving. However, I got confused again when I saw that he was using neither his elbows nor the lower part of his arms to steer his car. In my mirror he seemed to be singing a song accompanying himself on a guitar, as if he were enjoying the most beautiful season of the year. He opened the window as he found an audience before him, not under a shady tree but in a traffic jam. Afraid of being involved in an accident, I couldn't enjoy listening to him. The palms of my hands started perspiring as I worried about this crazy man colliding with my car. When we approached the construction site, I thought he would surely be warned against such stupid behavior by those who were directing the traffic around there. His voice was so beautiful that it made me feel sad. Cars proceeded at a snail's pace to where the work was being done. His song and the sound of the guitar aroused curiosity from the men at work along the street. There was a policeman there just as I had thought. With a look of keen interest he approached the car behind mine in a more authoritative manner than I had expected. What I heard as I left, however, was the officer saying in a loud voice to the musician, "Fantastic!"
    On a depressing morning in June 1991, at home in Japan, I found an article titled "California Commuters Find Ways to Pass the Time" in The Japan Times * The article was about ways to overcome the boredom of long drives, citing many examples including a report from Peter O'Rourke, Director of the California Office of Traffic Safety. It opened my eyes to the fact that my two previous experiences in the United States had been matters of everyday occurrence for Americans. According to the article, people shave, put on makeup, drink coffee, eat breakfast, read the paper, talk on the car phone, play musical instruments using their knees to steer the car, exercise by pushing their body against their seat belt or working their face and neck muscles by making grimaces, floss their teeth, and so on—all while they are driving their cars! Even though I still thought that such behavior invited traffic accidents, I couldn't help but be impressed with the Americans' free way of thinking.
    In the year and a half since I returned