The Wild Way

Imagine that you're dreaming.  In this dream, you find yourself in a car.  But, wait, something's wrong.  You are sitting on the right hand side in what you normally consider the passenger seat.  But there, smack dab in front of you is the steering wheel jutting out from where one might normally find the glove compartment.  Your tension mounts; you unconsciously twitch.  As the dream progresses, you are now driving but on the left side of the road.  Your every impulse is to get over to the right hand lane before something very troublesome happens, but other cars around you are following the same contrary rules that you are.  You are about to turn on to another road and are gripped by great anxiety thinking and re-thinking in a succession of nanoseconds where you should aim the car.  You suddenly awaken with eyes wide open, gasping for breath.

Welcome to Scotland and Ireland where the rules of the road pretty much lead you to the conclusion that it's a world gone mad.  When planning our trip to these destinations, we knew, of course, that driving could pose a challenge.  I had driven on the left side before: once many years ago in New Zealand and eight years ago in South Africa.  But, this trip posed a different challenge.  In Scotland and Ireland, the roads are narrow.  Very narrow.  And, they are often winding with seemingly an infinite number of blind curves where in the next moment you could be confronting a bus, a truck, a car or wayward sheep.  I spoke to random folks I met on the beach before we left to see if any of them might have had this experience, and to see if they had any insights.  Conservatively, 80% of them said they lost at least one of their outside rearview mirrors.  They reported banging into oncoming cars, or parked cars, street signs or sometimes even buildings on roads that are barely wider than angel hair pasta.

So, when we got to Scotland -- Lily and me and good friend, Maggie -- I was ready to pay for whatever insurance the rental people would offer me.  I did, however, manage to constrain myself from inquiring about renting body armor suits that would liken us to a team of Pillsbury dough boys.  We had an agreement, Lily, Maggie and I that as we hit the road they should never be shy about yelling out to  me, "STAY LEFT" just to keep my mind focused.  I told them that no matter how many times they might do that I would never, ever feel irritated by it.  Our plan was for me to drive, Lily to be the navigator, and Maggie to do her best impersonation of Miss Daisy from the back seat.

Leaving the airport, naturally, I was confronted with a series of roundabouts which, to the untrained motorist (i.e., me), posed immediate brain wracking challenges.  Hearing the animated guidance of the "stay left" crowd, I tried to focus on entering these circles going clockwise, not counter clockwise as I had been doing my whole life.  Okay, easy enough, but what about exiting these circles? Do I stay in the left lane or right?  What about the guy rapidly approaching the circle from another direction?  Do I stay to his right or push myself to stay in the left lane to ease my exit further along the circle?  Remember, these are not decisions you can mull over leaning back in a reclining chair sipping a cognac.  No, decisions like these are split second experiences.  Hopefully, you choose wisely.

The first day was marked by my hitting the left side curb eight times and by me happily having only one near death experience when, at a turn, I instinctively looked right for oncoming traffic instead of left, narrowly avoiding getting t-boned by a not so happy driver who was approaching from the left (of course).  Our time spent in the car over this two week period would present Lily as the in-car sound effects lady as she would alternately screech out "eeks" or "yikes" or yowees" and other exclamations that frankly are too difficult to spell as we would barely miss an oncoming car or street sign or building.

These dramatic outpourings were never more in evidence than when we encountered the most insane of Scottish and Irish driving realities: the one lane road.  And, by this I mean one lane roads designed for two way traffic.  I mean, seriously, what were they thinking?!?  I never realized I'd be
engaging in the game of chicken whereby you are zooming down a road and see an oncoming car zooming right at you and wondering who would flinch first.  It turns out that on these roads there are small carved out spots where one may pull over to avoid head on collisions, but you're pretty much on your own in determining when and if you do that as opposed to seeing if the other guy might pull over first.  Like I say, a game of chicken, Irish style.  (I thought it so thoughtful that these roads, which are barely wide enough for one car, would actually sometimes provide a painted line down the middle as if there might be plenty of room for two cars side by side on this noodle width causeway.)

As the days passed without incident, my confidence grew and Lily and Maggie greatly diminished their helpful guidance tips.  Even Lily's outbursts of indecipherable exclamations largely vanished from our adventure's soundtrack.  There came a time when I could actually enjoy the amazingly beautiful and lush landscapes.  To describe the steep  landscapes as merely green is almost an insult.  The intensity of the color is transfixing.  The hills were routinely dotted with hundreds of sheep who often managed to escape from their already lush pastures to nibble at road sides oblivious to traffic.  I convinced myself it was sheep that were responsible for inspiring the phrase "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."  Notwithstanding my increasing comfort with the whims and eccentricities of local driving, there were certainly times when I would do a double take when the occasional approaching car would have a golden retriever in what I would normally consider the driver's seat.  For a microsecond I could hear myself think, oh my god, that dog is driving!

Along the southwestern coast of Ireland, we would see many road signs that would label our route as "The Wild Way."  Yes, it is I would say to myself.  Yes, it is.