Tag Archives: cars

Vanity plates of the wealthy in Hong Kong, or I’ll take “18″ for $2 million

Posted by expatlingo in Hong Kong and tagged with , , , , , , , , , ,

I’ve become obsessed with license plate spotting. While most Hong Kong car plates are “normal” (two letters followed by four numbers), a small percentage are exceptionally striking in their individuality. I was amused when I spotted “ONION” and “POTATO.” I wretched slightly when I saw “POSHMUM.” And I started keeping track when I spotted “INVENTOR,” PIZZA” and lots of cryptic uses of “8″ (a very lucky number in Chinese as it sounds like “wealth”).

It turns out that vanity license plates are quite popular among a certain Hong Kong set.  As this NY Times article puts it:

“The popularity of what is the ultimate not-must-have car accessory is typical of the type of playful wealth display that Hong Kongers love: Those who can afford an expensive car love to individualize it, to set themselves apart from the seven million-strong Hong Kong crowd.”

A little research has uncovered that the plate names are auctioned off by the government to raise funds for poverty initiatives. So, it’s a win-win: those with money burning holes in their pockets can personalize their cars, and money is raised for good local causes. Details of the program and results of the auctions since 2006 can be found at the Personalize Vehicle Registration Mark Scheme website.

After cruising the government site, I now know that individuals submit personalized plate name applications which are then offered at public auction. Many of these plate names go to the original submitter for the minimum reserve bid of 5,000 HKD (about $650 US). But certain prized plates go for much, much more.

The richest of the rich apparently prefer the classy simplicity of two-initial plates which fetch the highest prices generally. For example, the prices of “TV,” ”M X,” “JK,” “KC,” TF,” and “AY” ranged from HKD 140,000 to 600,000 (roughly to US $18,000 to $77,000)!

The highest priced plate I ran across was simply “18″ which sold during a special Lunar New Year auction for a breathtaking HKD 16,500,000 (US $2.1 million)! My search was rather haphazard so there may be even higher priced plates.

There are also plenty of pretentious or humorous plates, including: “BANKER,” “SUCCESS,” “LAW,” K1NGK0NG,” “HE1OK1TY,” “ANGEL,” “HAPPY,” “GANGSTA,” “POSHBOY,” “JAGUAR,” “GOLFCLUB,” “911TURBO,” “FERRAR1,” “FAT,’ and “1 AM FAT.”

But, above all, this vanity plate–”GOD”– spotted by the now defunct blog Hong Kong Vanity Plates, takes the cake:

The unexpected joy of driving in Hong Kong

Posted by expatlingo in expat life, Hong Kong and tagged with , , , , , , , , ,

Don’t snort out your coffee in disbelief, before noting that I live in Hong Kong’s relatively rural New Territories.

I haven’t felt so free behind the wheel of a car since I left Utah, USA and its wide, open freeways 15 years ago. As a new driver there, I adored driving my ancient, yellow beetle up and down I-15 with my window rolled down, waiting for good songs to pop up on X96 FM. My left arm was tanned all summer.

Then I left Utah and forgot that driving can actually be a pleasure.

Until now.

I drive in Hong Kong and I love it. Music playing, sunroof open, kids in the backseat, we curve up and down Route 9 and enjoy the freedom of getting places quickly on open, off-peak-hour roads.

Do I feel like a former bike-riding, environmentalist hypocrite? Only a wee bit and mainly because I don’t really drive that much here. But when I do, really, really like it. I barely dare to admit this.

But I said it. Under the right conditions, driving feels good. Like a drug.

So how have I gotten around the last 15 years with minimal (and really only un-fun driving)? The break-down:

Seattle: I lived in-town and took the bus downtown to work. I learned to avoid the 358 (too many drunks and/or unstable people at any time of day) in favor of the 5 Express (mostly others like me with headphones on, ignoring each other). Driving, when I did it, was mainly within the city, with lots of stopping and starting, searching for parking, traffic jams, etc. Even when we left the city for the weekend, we almost always got stuck in a massive Sunday evening traffic jam as all the other hikers, skiers and campers tried to get back home too.

Zhuhai, China: I never bothered to get a license, never drove, and took insane taxi rides everywhere.

Cambridge, UK: Rode my beloved Dutch “bakfiets” bike and loved it. Flat, open and free, but on a bike. My range was limited, but I built my life around that. I did have a UK driving license, but there was absolutely no joy in driving there, as I was alternately terrified of side-swiping cars on tiny streets or stuck in a traffic jam on the motorway.

Here in Hong Kong: Yes, I can take the neighborhood mini-bus to the MTR station and take the train. It’s a schlep and takes 45 minutes to make a journey that takes 10 in the car. I do it when I’m going to Kowloon or Central sans kids when I can listen to my i-Pod and people-watch.

But if I need to dash someplace, I drive. And like the red-blooded, Western-state American I am, I love it.

There I said it. Driving in Hong Kong is my dirty vice.

My favorite stretch of road: The slopping curve of highway that passes through Ma On Shan if you’re driving back from an afternoon in Sai Kung at sunset. Steep, green mountains on one side and tall apartment blocks on the other with a view of the water.

Cheating Death on Asian Highways

Posted by expatlingo in Central Asia, China, expat life, India, travel and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Traffic accidents are a key danger of expat life as we live in countries with hazardous roads and move around by car a lot. (Smug expats riding their bikes on the dedicated cycle-lanes of the Netherlands or Denmark can stop reading now.)

There are three startlingly clear moments in time when I thought that I (or someone I love) would be killed on the highway. I’m far enough removed to now have a sick fascination with these events, so let’s plunge in:

Bishkek in winter.

Zero visibility on the road from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan to Almaty, Kazakstan. On my first overseas trip as a new “development worker” I went along with whatever everyone else was doing. Everyone else decided that it was more convenient to fly in and out of Almaty, Kazakstan and drive to and from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan: three and a half hours over a mountain pass in winter. Fair enough when we were all together and the road was visible. Maddeningly scary on a dark, snowy, very foggy night alone with the Kyrgyz chauffeur. As a former Soviet fighter pilot, he was touted as an exceptionally good driver. I can only guess that he was also highly skilled at “flying blind” and had every turn of that highway memorized, because I couldn’t see one foot ahead of the car in the snowstorm that we rocketed through. Today, I would have told him to turn back and have happily missed the flight. Then–young, childless, and on my first work-trip–I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

Wrong Indian state, but this sign should have been posted all along the "Grand Trunk Road."

Suicidal passing on the “Grand Trunk Road” within West Bengal, India. On another work trip a few years later, I found myself in West Bengal, India on a two-lane highway completely overloaded with colorful lorries, buses, and Tata Sumo SUVs. A significant fraction of these ill-mantained vehicles were driven by guys who considered it an assault on their manhood to either be passed or to not be continually passing others. I was in the car with my superior (whom, as a devout Christian, left his fate in God’s hands) and an ego-mad driver (whom, as a devout Hindu, probably also left his fate in Gods’ hands). As a Godless soul, I cowered in my seat as we played chicken with oncoming Ganesh-decorated, and heavily overloaded trucks.

This road in Zhuhai looks safe enough until you come across unmarked road-works at night.

Taut, chest-height metal cable across the highway in Zhuhai, China. I have Ma Siji (probably also Godless) to thank for saving my husband’s life. One dark night coming home from the factory, Driver Ma brought the car to a screeching halt. My husband, the workaholic he is, looked up after his computer flew to the floor of the car from the force of the stop. It was then, that he saw that laborers had secured a metal cable across the road at chest height. Seeing the VW Passat stop, one man casually walked out and lifted the cable high enough for the car to pass underneath; at the same moment a motorcycle whizzed by, the driver’s head just missing the now slightly elevated metal cable.

Stay safe. Miss your flight. Find a hotel for the night. Shower safe drivers with money and praise. If there is a seat belt, wear it. Drive defensively.