Before I continue the story I want to recap and explain a couple of things. This was my first trip ever abroad. I had not before this been off of the North American continent and it was a wonderful opportunity that afforded me a month’s holiday traveling through Europe without the shackles of tour buses, scheduled itineraries, etc. I had spent my young life up to that point (nearly 30 years ago) traveling back and forth between the US and Canada, and although there were some cultural differences…they were easily mastered. So, I thought to myself, “First I am off to England.” It is and [the] English speaking country…how different could it be?...
Part II
The Abbey where my friend lived was on a “B” road (2 lanes, not much traffic). My friend thought it would be a good place for me to practice driving before heading out to explore the countryside. My car at home was a manual shift, so that part should be easy…right?
I sat down in the car on the passenger…er…driver’s side and tried to become familiar with the controls. The shift was on the left hand side, my door to my right. It felt odd and I felt a little claustrophobic. The Abbey had a circular driveway, so I did a half-dozen laps to get used to things…no problem.
My friend said, “There is a roundabout 3 kilometers north. Drive up there and turn around…we’ll see how you do.” I pulled onto the road and immediately started driving in the right hand lane (it’s what I’m used to). It worked fine until an oncoming car came over a hill…right at me…flashing his lights. It soon seemed that he/she wasn’t going to get over and so I pulled off on the right shoulder to prevent getting hit. The oncoming driver passed me blaring his/her horn, shaking a fist. WTF??? I sat there a moment and another car came over the hill…in MY lane! I sat there…oh yah…LEFT LANE. I got to the roundabout [which is a whole new experience] and spent 5 minutes driving in circles trying to get back home. When I finally escaped the circle and headed south…in the right hand lane…until a honking, angry driver in oncoming traffic shocked me back into the left lane. When I got back home my friend looked at me, smiled and said, “Practice…practice.” I responded…”Is there a way you can rotate my brain 180 degrees to make this easier?”
The first day of exploration took me to Warwickshire to see Warwick Castle. It was a short drive [in distance and on the nerves]. On the drive over I managed only to frighten or anger about a dozen drivers and pedestrians…so I had that going for me. I parked the car a few blocks away from the castle and started walking up a hill on a narrow road that had tall stone walls on either side. So…there I was, walking up the hill minding my own business when suddenly (and I mean very suddenly) a Harrier jet lofted up from behind the wall a very short distance from me. I would say it was close enough to see the color of the pilot’s eyes…except that I dove to the ground and covered my head. I could feel my heart in my throat. I peed a little. Apparently the Royal Air Force was on exercises...they have free reign…and they don’t need parking permits.
I gathered myself up, dusted off and leaned against the wall a moment to get my heart rate down. I continued up the hill. Just as I got close to the corner, suddenly (and I mean very suddenly) a fire truck rounded the corner at a good clip and hit the horn and siren right in front of me. Again, I found myself flat on my face looking at the pavement. I was…for the rest of the day…jumpy.
Warwick Castle was a fascinating place. The original structure dates back to the first century…I’m guessing the mortgage is paid. A portion of the castle had been converted into apartments and the balance was [is] a very large museum. The grounds were sprawling and beautiful with gardens and manicured lawns.
I was walking through the main museum enjoying the incredible history of all the items on display. I found myself standing next to a young family; Mom, Dad, and two young boys. Dad pointed to an ornate, hand carved sideboard and said, “Son…you know that sideboard is 700 years old?” The son twisted his face a little and replied, “Why don’t they buy a new one??”
To be continued…
I’m just saying.
Photo credit to Berkeley Breathed for Bill the Cat
