It was the strangest thing. There I was, enjoying a leisurely morning stroll to work when my reverie was shattered in a barrage of blasts from a particularly dirty-sounding car horn. The source of the driver's irritation was, apparently, me.

This isn't the strange part, of course. I fully understand and accept the law of the road here in China: If your vehicle is bigger than the person/vehicle you are jostling with, it's your right of way.

Never mind that I was minding my own business, walking in a pedestrianized area, bothering nobody.

No, I understand the way it works. If you are driving a haulage vehicle approaching a crossing where a pensioner is attempting to cross the road before the green pedestrian light expires, it is positively your duty to issue a loud blast on the horn before accelerating sharply.

I appreciate the subtleties of this principle, and am clear how it may be applied all the way down the food chain. Big trucks have more rights than small trucks, small trucks take preference over large Buick saloons which, in turn, boss humble Volkswagen taxis who tend to take out their frustrations by sending motorcyclists swerving for cover. It's the law of the jungle. And it's bad news for those who walk.

Anyway, I digress. What was unusual in this instance was not that a car was beeping me for the heinous crime of attempting to reach my office by the only pedestrian means possible. No, it was the car itself that caught my attention.

For one, it was bright yellow. Even more quirky were the words printed on the side: Emergency Earthquake Rescue. I was momentarily shocked. The office block that now reared up in front of me looked sound enough from the outside but I wondered if there had been some kind of terrible internal collapse overnight.

Would I walk in to find the graveyard-shift Ayis fighting for life under the wreckage of computer monitors and photocopying machines? I chastised myself for hesitating and stepped aside instantly.

My panic, however, subsided a few moments later when a middle-aged lady emerged from the back seat of the rescue vehicle. There were no masks, oxygen tanks or pick-axes. Instead, she swished her hair, slung a handbag over her shoulder as she headed into the building for another day at the office.

This was a new one, even for me. I know that a police vehicle with flashing lights and car-load of passengers does not necessarily denote the successful apprehension of a criminal syndicate.

On the contrary, the crimes of the kind of hooligans who ride in the back of police cars are often so minor that the uniformed drivers feel able to drop their captives off in choice city-center locations (cinemas, supermarkets, restaurants) and bid them farewell with a wave.

However, I expect more of my Emergency Earthquake Rescuers. Until my Internet connection is fixed, I must insist those in the earthquake business refrain from chauffeuring their wives to work.

(China Daily 02/06/2007 page20)