You are in the back of an auto. The driver has his own plans. Around you,
a hundred and fifty vehicles are each solving the same problem — get
forward, take any gap, yield only to something bigger — and none of them
have agreed on a lane.
You have a flight. Your only control is the horn — in this traffic
that is not anger, it is a negotiation for a gap, and it works. Lean on
it too long and it dies on you.