There is nothing we like more in Kent than complaining about our roads; the traffic jams, the potholes, utilities digging them up; the hand gestures we get from fellow motorists at any perceived slight.

But, despite our gripes, on the whole, our highways are (relatively) well maintained and despite some dunderheads, we all follow the rules of the road.

Without the Highway Code, cameras, concealed police cars and signs-a-plenty telling us what speed to drive, where to go or who has priority, there’s a perceived risk our roads would become a dangerous free-for-all. And, given how many people drive with those conditions in place, it’s hard not to imagine how close we are to potential anarchy.

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

I was lucky enough this summer to be visiting family in Vietnam. Should you ever wonder how other countries’ roads compare to ours, then look no further. There are also valuable lessons to be learned when it comes to attitudes to your fellow road user.

The road system in Hanoi – Vietnam’s northern capital - works at traffic management’s most basic level. There are roads. You can get from A to B. And, for the most part, you can do so in any manner you so fancy. If they are policed, it’s extremely well disguised to the visitor.

Want to drive through red lights? Go for it. Ride your moped on the wrong side of the road? Be our guest. Traffic at a standstill? Just take to the path.

During my brief stay, I kid you not when I say I saw moped riders – which must comfortably outnumber cars by 10-to-one - moving through traffic, with their elbows controlling the handlebars as they faffed about on their phones.

I travelled in taxis where drivers were watching soap operas on touchscreens on their dashboards as they weaved their way through the traffic, while mopeds designed for two carried entire families all squashed on the seats like a generously filled human sandwich. Most weren’t even wearing a crash helmet.

It quite takes your breath away.

The soundtrack to all of this is a cacophony of horns beeping. Yet not one appears to be doing so in anger. The horn there is used merely to say ‘I’m here’ or, perhaps more accurately, ‘I’m coming through so please don’t hit me’.

Which, I’m pretty sure is what the Highway Code in this country suggests we use them for. (And not, for example, to lean on when we want to intimidate someone or vent our frustration).

No one races at silly speeds…they just all pootle along at a modest pace.

As for pedestrians? Well, crossing four lanes of relentless traffic requires a leap of faith. Or, at least, a slow and steady walk across the oncoming cars and mopeds to allow them to (hopefully) anticipate your movements and drive around you. So tuck those elbows in.

Because no motorist – whether on two or four wheels – will willingly stop for you. Even on the so-called pedestrian crossings or when traffic lights are on red. They’re not being selfish, it’s simply not the way it works there.

There’s just a tacit agreement that it’s going to be a nuisance for all involved if they plough someone down. So they try and avoid it.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not a failsafe approach. The number of fatalities on Vietnam’s roads is considerably higher than the UK.

But for the sheer number of people on any given highway at any given time, the lack of safety equipment and state of some of the roads, it seems a remarkably modest return.

It is not, mind you, for the faint of heart. It’s probably why their coffee is so magnificent - you need to be alert to survive.

Yet, amid all of this, the traffic system somehow works.

I didn’t see any moped drivers sent flying. I didn’t see pedestrians bouncing off bonnets nor, for that matter, anything coming close to road rage incidents.

For all the chaos, tempers remained perfectly intact. While I’d much rather take my chances on the well-regulated Kent road, we could, when it comes to driving attitudes, learn a lot.