(The real title should be: “Why certain Americans should not drive in Ireland”)
So we make the overnight flight from JFK to London to Ireland, collect our luggage and head to the rent-a-car desk. My wife’s been planning this trip for years. I’m just told to show up at specific time and perform manual tasks. (no real thinking involved, just the way I like it) We’re looking for the EuroCar rental desk at Dublin Airport. (Not my place to question, but EuroCar?...couldn’t we have just stuck with a nice American name like Avis?). We find EuroCar, very nice people, but they do not have the car we reserved. Instead, we get a fairly new (won’t be new after this trip) BMW 5 series. Nice car, but not big enough for the four us and our luggage. We needed to snuggly place a small-ish piece of luggage between our two kids in the back seat, which naturally turned out to be a blessing.
So the first thing you need to deal with is driving on the left side of the road. The guy at the rent-a-car counter was a seasoned professional. When he asked me if I wanted the additional insurance, I gave him my standard answer, “No Way. Do I have sucker written all over my face?” Rent-a-car man keeps his composure and asks me if I’ve ever driven on the left side of the road. My answer is no…I’m still holding my ground. He then asks me, “Do you ever have a tendency to let you mind drift at all?” I signed up for the deluxe insurance package. Worst case, if I total the car, I’m only out 100 Euros.
I received some key advice right before I left for the trip: “Get the GPS” and “Look to your right when entering Roundabouts.” This probably saved my sanity and my family’s lives a couple of times. Of course I never get the GPS, what do I need a GPS for? I’ll use the positioning of the Sun during the day and the North Star at night to plot my course. And besides who has the extra 5 minutes to learn how to use the GPS?...did I mention I graduated with honors.
So now it’s time to get behind the wheel of the car and start driving. I’m confident, it’s just a car, and sadly, I’ve been driving for over 30 years, I can handle this. As you enter the maze of confusing roads that the rental agencies live in, you immediately go into “Holy Shit” mode. Now you move onto major roads and highways and everybody is driving in the wrong direction…I think I need a drink, but maybe that’s not such a good idea. (Piece of advice for 1st time drivers in Ireland: bring extra deodorant and underwear)
In Ireland they have these traffic circles called, “Roundabouts.” If I never hear that word again it will be too soon. Anyway, we’re continually missing our exit off these roundabouts. And to make it as nerve wracking as possible, the sadists in Ireland have these roundabouts coming at you in succession one after another. Eventually we found ourselves on a road to Portugal.
Something VERY important that people don’t realize is that as much as you’re driving on the left side of the road (minor adjustment, but with your family screaming for their lives at you from time to time, it can be dealt with), the steering wheel is on the right side of the car. Why is this important you may ask? Because in the back of your mind you’re still thinking “3/4s of my car is still to the right of me. In Ireland that means you mind is telling you that 3/4s of your car is heading into oncoming traffic. So every time I pass a car coming the other way I’m wincing uncontrollably in anticipation of a major head-on collision. Now let’s take this situation to the next level. Most of the roads in Ireland can fit "maybe" a car and a half for traffic going both ways (I'm sorry to be judgy, but is this not the 21st Century). That means when you pass someone going the other way, someone, hopefully both cars, shift to the side of the road a bit to avoid a head-on collision. (I have a feeling the locals knew I was an American. They’d never, and I mean never budge an inch when we’d pass. At one point my 15 year-old son asks me, “Dad, why don’t you hold your ground and make them move over?” I ask him if he’d like to be alive and go to college some day.)
If a large truck or oil tanker is coming in the other direction and you can plainly see that its too big for its side of the road to start with, you have only a split second to: (without screaming like a little girl) look to your left to see if there is any room to move over, if there is none you make room the only way possible: You veer into the brush, listening to all the shrubs scrapping along the side of the car, praying you’ll stay off the rock walls that line most of the roads. (Your wife is making the sign of the cross, she does this a lot the whole trip. And you’ve given up any notion of keeping the 100 euro insurance policy deductible.)
Now picture doing this around hairpin turns. It’s like being in a video game, but unlike the game where if you crash, you just put another quarter in the machine. But in this “game” the stakes are a tad higher. You go through this routine for 8 to 10 hours a day (I'm really lucky, it's light out in Ireland till at least 9PM). By the end of each day your fingers are numb from constantly having a death grip on the steering wheel. To your amazement, your family can’t understand why at the end of each day you’re a mental wet dishrag.
This went on for 8 days. After Ireland we’re flying to London for a few days. I can’t wait to get rid of the rent-a-car. I stayed off newspapers and TV for the first 6 days in Ireland. On the 7th day I turn on the news and see that London is having riots…the worst riots in 30 years…I love vacations.
