Every time I venture into the chaotic Beijing traffic I feel as if I am taking my life in my hands. And I am not even driving.
I still haven't plucked up the courage to get behind the wheel of a car - I don't think the 13 million inhabitants in the city are ready for that yet - and I have become China's most nervous (and probably most irritating) passenger.
Beijing traffic is a monster that authorities are finding increasingly hard to tame. It is a terrifying, lethal mix of hundreds of thousands of cars, bicycles, rickshaws, pedestrians and traffic police.
Acceptable driving habits in Beijing include beeping the horn every 30 seconds, moving lanes without signaling, passing out cars on the inside, and ignoring zebra crossings.
Cyclists weave their way all over the roads and venture out at night without a light. Invariably a spouse, partner, child or some other cargo is precariously hanging off the carrier.
One traffic law here allows you to turn right on a red light, something which adds to the general traffic mania especially if you're a pedestrian taking your cue from the "little green man"
And taxi-drivers! I should not complain because, compared to Dublin, there are plenty of them (approximately 75,000); you can get one in two seconds; they are cheap, and such is their enthusiasm for business that they beep at you as you walk along hoping you will forego your planned exercise for a lift.
But the taxi-drivers are a traffic law unto themselves. They drive in zigzag patterns, negotiate corners as if they didn't exist, and frequently cut across traffic, usually making it with inches to spare from oncoming buses and trucks.
There are dramatic plans to transform the Beijing traffic, a process that will be speeded up if the city is successful in its bid to get the 2008 Olympic games. Already there has been quite an investment in roads, and the main access routes to the city centre are wide and inviting. A planned new light rail system is also likely to improve matters.
But what is compounding Beijing's traffic nightmare is the fact that there is a boom in car sales - something that is threatening the traditional dominance of the bicycle.
This car-buying trend is being led by the "chuppies", China's new breed of upwardly mobile professionals keen to trade in their bikes for a four-wheeled vehicle.
Car ownership is still low in China with only four for every thousand people in the country, approximately half the world average. But a recent survey showed that with more money at their disposal, 70 per cent of urban Chinese households are planning to invest in a car in the next five years. And current annual car sales of 700,000 are predicted to rise to 2.1 million by the year 2010.
This is good news for domestic car manufacturers with two-thirds of prospective car owners declaring themselves keen to buy home-produced vehicles.
The most popular car in Beijing is the Xiali, which looks a bit like the old Fiat Mirafiori. A new model, which rolled off the production lines last December, costs $15,900, which is expensive when you consider that the average per capita GDP is $850 a year.
Despite the fact that the cheaper cars are the biggest sellers, there has been a mini-explosion in the number of luxury cars on the roads of China. Last week it was a case of "bumper-to-bumper" crowds at Beijing's Auto Trade Market in the Asian Games Village where most would-be buyers were drawn to a display of sleek, black, Chinese-built Audis, boasting power steering, plush leather interiors and a price tag of a cool $50,000.
The German luxury car manufacturer, Porsche AG, also opened a sales office in Beijing earlier this month and executives are confident they will be able to sell their first 50 vehicles to China's new breed of nouveau riche by the middle of next year.
And BMW already has 20 showrooms scattered across mainland China, with annual sales of more than 5,000 for its Series 3 saloons built at its enormous manufacturing plant in Qingdao.
I am slowly working up the courage to drive in Beijing. To date, I have left it all to my better half.
Since January 1st, all foreigners here have to sit a driving test. That's in addition to the health check they must undergo at a city hospital. My husband's "test" took place last Friday - and he passed.
Remarkably, the testing was done in groups of four. While he was put through his paces in a 20-year-old black Toyota (model indecipherable), three other applicants sat in the back of the car waiting their turn. When he was finished, after only 45 seconds behind the wheel, he was relegated to the back to make way for one of the others. The instructor was a young policeman, with no English, who didn't wear a seat belt. All four passed with flying colours.
When the foreigners' driving test was first introduced two months ago, it initially took place on the streets of Beijing. After a few weeks the authorities opted for the safer environment of the test centre . . . because of the traffic chaos.
Perhaps I'll stick to being chauffeured.