Hello! Sorry it’s been quiet here; we’ve been busy with end of school and getting ready for our summer trip to the U.S. I’ve enjoyed sharing about our life the past almost-year. I can’t believe time has gone by so quickly. I still have so many trips to share and discoveries to write about, but all in good time.
But instead of that fun stuff, let’s talk about driving. What could I say, you wonder, when it’s simply a switch from the right side to the left side? Oh, if only it were that simple.
Immediately after the move, Tim did the driving. We had been loaned a car from his work, a Volvo SUV that was great for us, and also a manual. I can drive a manual car – shout out to my parents, tractors, and my first car, a gorgeous 1989 cherry red Dodge Shadow that had had a cassette tape deck, which was totally OK because you could use one of those cassette-to-CD player adapters and rock your Pearl Jam and No Doubt CDs. But since about the year 2001, it’s been all automatic cars for me.
Now it gave me pause. I was jet-lagged, nervous about roundabouts, and unsure how my mind would process driving on the left, while shifting on the left, while looking from the right. On one trip from the hotel to our house, he decided it was time and I needed to drive. I made it a few miles before nervously pulling over, uneasy at the cars whizzing by me on the right. I collected myself and made it to our house.
It got easier. We rented a car for a while until we bought, and it was an automatic, which helped because I could simply focus on staying on my side of the road and going the right way. And when it came time to buy, I bought an automatic.
The roads are another story. I don’t consider myself some sort of orienteering savant, but I feel like I have a decent sense of direction. Living here has made me question that. Normally, you can assume if you take a road leading in one direction, it will end up in that general direction, eventually running into roads going in a perpendicular fashion. More or less, there’s a general grid pattern happening.
Here, I couldn’t figure it out. Narrow, windy roads start in one direction and twist 17 times so when I’m at the end, who knows which way we’re going? Roads that I think should run into each other never do.
Enter Google Maps. Honestly, I’m not sure how I would have gotten around when, in a time not so long ago, we didn’t have everything on our phones. Before you printed out Mapquest directions, you just had maps. To get to the grocery store, I would have consulted one and planned out my route. Or, try to rely on directional signage, but sometimes that fails me too. I would have figured it out, as everyone did before me, but it would have been difficult.
The technology gives me a sense of freedom. If I’m going to run an errand, so I can enter it in and get turn-by-turn instructions. But I can take a different way home, or go to a new area and explore. It’s easy, because I know the map will find me the best way back home again. I’m never really lost…unless I don’t have service. It’s freeing and comforting, maybe too much so. I’ve started challenging myself to do trips without my phone if I’ve been there once or twice…concentrating on which road to take, which lane to be in for the roundabout and when to exit.
Last week, I took the boys to a play farm and I attempted my way home on the roads I thought I knew. I took an early turn and went down a road that wasn’t correct, but eventually came to a road I was familiar with and got us home. I felt a sense of accomplishment, and the boys got a few extra minutes to listen to a Beastie Boys song.
When I look out at the landscape around us, it is beautiful, fields and farms and green everywhere. I think the roads are part of the reason for that. Instead of looking out and seeing vast four-lane roads with wide center strips and huge ditches on each side, you can barely see the curvy, narrow roads because they disappear into the hedges and landscape around them. They seem to flow with the pattern of the land. It’s wonderful, aesthetically.
It is not wonderful, practically. When people have come to visit, and I drive them on the roads surrounding us, I can see them wincing and hear them sharply drawing their breath in we go around the bends. I get it; I feel the same way still. Many roads are only wide enough for one vehicle, which would perhaps be acceptable if there was any extra room on the side. But there’s not. Tight, tall hedge rows line the narrow roads, making it difficult to squeeeeeeeze by passing cars. I’ve gotten used to pulling into the hedgerows, scraping the side of my car with the leaves and twigs to allow another to pass by.
I’m still getting comfortable with the closeness of the passing cars. I, more often than not, am the one who stops and waits so others can go by. At least drivers here are mostly nice, letting you in with a flick of the headlights or letting you pass with a polite wave.
The boys and I took some video driving around the other day. It’s not very pretty, just a dash video sped up and choppy in the rain, but hopefully it gives some sense for the curvy and narrow roads, looking out for cars, pedestrians, lorries, tractors, cyclists and oh – horses – at every turn on the narrow roads.
Tim and I are in the process of obtaining our UK driving licenses. We’ve been driving on our provisional licenses, but need to secure our official ones at the end of summer. The first step was the theory, multiple-choice exam. It was a great example of how Tim and I approach things. I am nothing if not a diligent studier, downloading the app, reading through the sections, spending hours going over the content and practice questions.
He, on the other hand, looked at the app a little, took a few practice tests and mostly did this at night when he would usually fall asleep after 15 minutes. He took the theory test the day before me and got 49 out of 50 questions correct. After I took mine, I immediately walked out of the testing center and texted him that I beat him by acing it. But instead of feeling accomplished, I realized I had spent way too much time studying for it, ha.
My driving-knowledge prowess was quickly knocked down two days later. I had taken Bennett to an appointment and was trying to find him lunch before we headed back to pick Nate up from school, promptly at 3:15. I took a wrong turn looking for a McDonalds, and soon Google Maps was telling me that we weren’t going to arrive at school until 3:20. Whoops.
I started to get nervous, calling the school and telling them I’d just be a few minutes late. That nervousness and the tight squeeze of the roads led me to take one corner too far to the outside edge. I heard the sound of the tire hitting a sharp, large rock and I knew. Soon, the tire pressure signal came on. I had punctured the tire and it was quickly starting to wobble and flap.
I wasn’t familiar with that road, and didn’t see anywhere to pull over. I kept going for as long as I thought I could, making sure I was over a hill, leaving some room for drivers behind me to see me, while just before a bend in the road where drivers could see me from ahead. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t sure how far I could or should go. So I stopped, pulling over into the hedges.
I had no idea what to do. It was the front passenger tire, and even if I was proficient in changing a tire (I’m not – life skills fail), there was no room to do that on the narrow two-lane road with the tire wedged into the hedge row. Now what?
I called the school and with a lump in my throat, said instead of being a few minutes late, I would be a lot late. They graciously said Nate could go to after school club. One problem solved. But I was still in the middle of a narrow two lane road, with cars lining up behind me, with a few dirty looks and gestures for good measure as they took turns passing me.
I looked on my insurance card for any roadside assistance, but only saw a number to call to report an accident and I wasn’t even sure we had roadside assistance. I called Tim, who didn’t answer. I started to panic a little, and then Bennett started to panic. Here’s where things get a bit embarrassing. I called Tim a few more times to no avail. I called Tim’s boss’s wife, hoping if she could answer and then call her husband at work, he could track down Tim. No luck, as she was busy getting her sons from school too.
I started to cry and Bennett followed suit. I just needed to think. Ah, I know! The thing I should do is…call the police. (I know, this is pretty embarrassing after the fact.) I called and explained that I had a flat tire and wasn’t sure my car was drive-able and I was in the middle of a road with my son and I didn’t want to hold up traffic, or worse, cause any accidents. They matter-of-factly told me to call roadside assistance and get out of the road. It’s funny now because it’s true.
Finally, I texted Tim: CALL ME. He must have gotten out of his meeting, or stopped ignoring me, and called me. “My tire is flat and we’re in the middle of a road and I’m pulled over as far as I can but I’m blocking traffic and I don’t know what to do!” I blurted out, Bennett crying in the background. “I’m on my way,” he said. (So grateful he’s that kind of a husband.)
As I was on the phone with him, a van of three older men pulled up beside me. “Love, we’ve got to get you out of the road!” they said to me. They were sympathetic to my tire situation, but really, I needed to move. So they guided me, making sure the cars in front of and behind me were aware I was there and moving slowly, as we went around the bend and on until we found a field driveway I could move into. I thanked them profusely, embarrassed but relieved, and normal traffic resumed. Good guys.
Bennett and I calmed down, hopped out of the car and waited. Tim arrived about 30 minutes later, and moved us down to a larger driveway so he could change the tire, as Bennett and I left to go get Nate. I felt pretty stupid for just not continuing to drive (but you can ruin the rim by driving on a flat tire, right?! Or maybe it’s not a big deal, I dunno.) and get out of the way, for not knowing how to change my flat, for making Tim leave work and especially for calling the police, ha.
And mostly, I felt terrible for getting Bennett upset and being the worst example of a mother in that moment. I’m supposed to make him feel safe, not join him in his freaking out. But now we can laugh about it. We found our roadside assistance number. I now know to at least get the hell out of the way, flat tire or not. If I had to do it again, I’m sure I would do a better job and freak out at least 50% less, which seems applicable to many situations that I’ve encountered here. Progress.
Bennett, however, still seems a little on edge with my driving. He questions if I have enough gas in the tank, or if I really know where I’m going. I assure him I do. I think it’s great practice for me to be judged by whoever administers my driving test, which is set for when we return from our trip to the U.S. Fingers crossed we each pass, and it doesn’t end in an emergency call.
Now, school’s out – and on to family, friends, summer and more adventures!
Tosa to Tarporley 