Today, I am very proud to announce, I had my first practice at driving ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD. Mind you - having given it some thought, and seeing a map of the world showing which countries drive on the right and which on the left, it has to be said that Britain is actually the one, USING THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD.
I was quite nervous, and read some good advice on the internet before setting off. The most sensible of which just said to repeat constantly in your head (or out loud for that matter), 'Keep on the right, keep on the right'. It said something about trying not to open the window when you reach for the gear stick, which I thought was a bit daft.
'I'm not that stupid', I thought smugly.
Out in the parking lot (I am getting the lingo now) I kept hitting the window winder when I tried to change gear, so that bit of advice didn't seem so daft in retrospect. It's hard to find third with a faster and faster blast of cold air in your face and the engine over-revving. It was also odd to look up and to the right for the internal mirror, I kept looking up and left and admiring the door pillar. Not much help in seeing whether there was a large truck bearing down on me.
I drove along a steep, twisting road, with a sheer drop appearing occasionally to one side. I decided not to be intimidated and instead kept an eye on the central lines, which confusingly were yellow, like our no parking lines down the side of the road. In America the white lines are at the edges, which adds to the general feeling of confusion about where you should be pointing on the road.
I stalled once, was tooted once and sworn at by a truck driver once, but as I managed to get both the car and 'slightly anxious' passenger back in one piece, I decided to regard it as a successful outing.
I was quite nervous, and read some good advice on the internet before setting off. The most sensible of which just said to repeat constantly in your head (or out loud for that matter), 'Keep on the right, keep on the right'. It said something about trying not to open the window when you reach for the gear stick, which I thought was a bit daft.
'I'm not that stupid', I thought smugly.
Out in the parking lot (I am getting the lingo now) I kept hitting the window winder when I tried to change gear, so that bit of advice didn't seem so daft in retrospect. It's hard to find third with a faster and faster blast of cold air in your face and the engine over-revving. It was also odd to look up and to the right for the internal mirror, I kept looking up and left and admiring the door pillar. Not much help in seeing whether there was a large truck bearing down on me.
I drove along a steep, twisting road, with a sheer drop appearing occasionally to one side. I decided not to be intimidated and instead kept an eye on the central lines, which confusingly were yellow, like our no parking lines down the side of the road. In America the white lines are at the edges, which adds to the general feeling of confusion about where you should be pointing on the road.
I stalled once, was tooted once and sworn at by a truck driver once, but as I managed to get both the car and 'slightly anxious' passenger back in one piece, I decided to regard it as a successful outing.
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