Driving Day

It was now the day we would awake and begin to experience the UK outside of London. Everyone was looking forward to this day but me. In fact, I even lost a bit of sleep over the fact that I would be driving on the left side of the road from the passenger side of the car. Could I do it without having to purchase the rental company a new car?

We slept in a bit, checked out of our hotel without any problems, and piled our luggage inside a black London cab. Off to the other end of town we went clear over to Victoria Station, the most congested part of town. Did you understand what I just wrote? I was going to be learning how to drive on the wrong side of the road in the most congested part of London with no idea how to get where I was going. Yeah, you’d lose a bit of sleep, too.

Months ago I worked through a broker and rented a VW Passat. I was so happy I was that organized and that it was already paid for. But the long line of people waiting for cars they paid for and could not get at the ticket counter I was now waiting at told me that this was going to be a very frustrating process. After waiting in line for almost an hour (only 4 people were ahead of me) it was now my turn. The gentleman in front of me was now in the back room screaming at the manager because he was promised an automatic and there were none available. Fear started to set in. Because, if you think about it, driving on the wrong side, sitting on the wrong side, and shifting on the wrong side using my left hand while looking outside the window and possibly talking and thinking were going to be very, very wrong.

I tried to look as nice as I could. The gentleman picked away at his keyboard forever as he took down my information. He copied my passport and my driver’s license. Then he handed me my keys to my “upgraded vehicle” whatever that was. It turned out to be a people carrier, or a van as we like to say. Did I mention it was a manual shift? You see, I ordered what I did because it was small. That’s because I was going to be driving out in farm country where the roads are small. And, there were only four of us, not eight.

I calmly told the man that I had specifically paid for a VW Passat and that was exactly what I was promised. I held in my hand a letter from the broker saying that if I were not given what was promised I was to have them call a special number where they would yell at the people for me. I also told them that I wanted a letter from the manager clearing me from all responsibility fro wrecking their car should I get in an accident because I was given a freakin’ 8 passenger van, manual shift on the wrong side, sitting on the wrong side and that I was expected to drive on the wrong side. I would not leave until the phone call was made and the letter was in hand. Apparently my kind words worked because magically the car I wanted appeared.

Did I mention that they have never heard of elevators in the UK? Most places do not have them. This giant garage did not. And all their cars were parked on the 5th floor. So I grabbed Elissa and our rented TomTom GPS device and up we went. I was also told to inspect every square inch of the car for scratches and dents because they are really shady about sticking Americans with the bill for any little blemish. So I did. I even took pictures. The man started to get mad at me but I didn’t care. I made him sign a detailed paper in duplicate showing every little blemish. He was not my friend. But two weeks later that little paper would save me.

I hopped in the car on the driver’s side (right) and down the ramps and out of the garage we went. We stopped at the bottom to pick up Sheri, Brittney and our luggage. We waited for TomTom to get a good signal and off we went into a very congested London. I gave permission to the girls to backseat drive like their life depended on it, because it did. Over and over they screamed, “STAY LEFT!” and over and over I forgot and then obeyed. TomTom got us out of London and onto a motorway (freeway) very quickly. Finally I received a break because the motorway didn’t have any right-hand turns, the worst kind.

We were about two hours out of London when we made our first stop. It was lunchtime so we decided to heed the signs and stop at our first of many “Welcome Break” areas. We’d call it a rest area. We went into a Quickie Mart and tried to find something familiar to eat. The first thing we saw was a giant colorful display that said, “BIG NUTS…grab a bag.” We must have looked real childish standing there as a family laughing and pointing at it. “Who can we buy those for?” I asked. “Nunan!” said my girls. I presented Nunan a bag of BIG NUTS just yesterday. He was very happy.

Sheri discovered that Pepsi is almost impossible to find. She had to settle for Coke. She also discovered Orange Coke. That’s Coke with the delicious taste of orange. It tasted like crap. We stuck to bottled water. We quickly grabbed a couple of sandwiches and got back on the long road. As we dug into our respective sandwiches, the girls and I discovered the joy of European Brie. We each grabbed a Brie, tomato, and basil baguette. I cannot tell you how much better Euro Brie than plastic American Brie. The sandwich was so amazingly delicious we wanted more. The girls and I raved about it. Sheri had tunafish.

As we would soon discover, all their dairy products, especially the cheeses, tasted much better than ours. That’s because they don’t have to pasteurize their milk, killing all of the flavor producing bacteria. And, with the exception of two episodes of projectile diarrhea I do not blame on the cheese, no ill effects beset us.

TomTom had a lovely and calming affect on us all. She had the most wonderful women’s British accent and I never doubted her for a second. But Brittney did. So a couple of times I was convinced by a backseat driver that TomTom was wrong and the map was right. As it turned out, TomTom was never wrong. Soon we were in the ancient city of Bath. And it was raining.

We were here only a couple of hours, getting our bearings. For we would return the next day, fully rested and ready for the sites, sounds and smells of Bath. We discovered that Bath was a rather dirty city. There was litter everywhere and it smelled of pee. We reasoned that this was because there were many drunk and loud hobos wandering the streets. In fact, this is where we began to notice the British tradition of street urination. They will pee on anything, and they do. A lot. Look in any corner and find a puddle. You’ll also find them around the bases of statues and flowerpots. We know they weren’t dogs because we witnessed many a public urination. We learned quickly not to step in anything wet or ask directions from a man standing in a corner. Best to remain lost.