I hate to admit it but the Brits are way ahead of America when it comes to many, many things -- especially driving. Now, I know that most folks from the States would rather jump off a cliff than try to drive in the UK because of the unsettling fact that in Britain they drive on the other -- often referred to by Amercans as the wrong side of the road -- which is simply a convenient way to avoid the challenge of driving in a foreign land. We rented an automatic Volvo 70 from Hertz at their Victoria Station office. It had been about ten years since I last drove a car in Britain. So essentially, it was like remembering to drive back-asswards again, starting in Times Square. I had to navigate the four busiest parts of London. -- Piccadilly Circus, Buckingham Palace, Parliament and Westminster Abbey. Why? Because we got a car with a GPS -- an absolute must for getting around Britain -- and the happy English lady giving the audio directions on the state-of-the-art guidance system -- always saying please -- picked the most direct route north out of town. It was a completely insane ride -- like a scene out of a Woody Allen movie. We had some close calls and a few irate drivers even leaned out of their windows and shook their fists and fingers at us in a rather threatening manner, but after about thirty minutes of white knuckle driving through chaotic London, we were on the four-Lane M11 Motorway and heading for Cambridge about 80 miles away. And like riding a bicycle, my 12 years of driving in Scotland -- albeit many years ago -- kicked in and I was soon driving 90 mph like the rest of the cars around me and loving life. Everyone was zipping along, some well over 100 mph, and I asked Inna if she had seen a speed limit sign. She looked a bit puzzled and said No. Which brings me back to my original statement about the Brits being more enlightened than us when it comes to the rules of the road, because, essentially there are no rules, other than the right lane is the fast lane and you can go as fast as you like. You never have to worry about cops or speed traps. Its incredibly liberating. Think of how much money the Brits save by not having to constantly prowl virtually every roadway, pulling over innocent people all the time because they exceeded some arbitrary speed limit? Police are free to deal with real criminals, rather than lurk along the roadside like highwaymen. Im sure most folks would say that our relentless traffic law enforcement in the States is really just a money generator for government in the form of perpetual speeding fines. Like another highway tax on those who like to drive fast. But how misguided and lame is that? We make sleek, flashy cars that go 130 and market the whole speed thing in every commercial on television, and then we dont let drivers exceed 70 -- usually 55 -- and turn a drive on every highway in America into a constant vigil for police and their dreaded radar guns. Always with the guns in the land of the free. And, of course, the party line would be that speed limits save lives. Which is equally lame because the Brits drive like bats out of hell and we never saw a single accident. The simple truth is that Brits are much better drivers than Americans. And as a result, they dont need to be treated like children by the law. Then again, we Yanks are probably still pretty much children -- maybe irresponsible teens is a bit more accurate -- and we are definitely in need of steady supervision -- especially me -- as evidenced by the fact that I got so turned around in York on the way to the Cathedral that I drove us right through the narrow pedestrian shopping section of that Medieval city in the middle of a Friday afternoon when it was teeming with hordes of tourists, families pushing strollers, and geezers walking their little doggies. We knew what we were doing was terribly wrong but once we went down the rabbit hole there was no turning back. We were creeping along an ancient, cobblestone pathway, hemmed in by the weathered stone buildings while the curious people parted in front of our Volvo like waves. And it just got narrower and crazier until we came to some iron bollards that blocked our way. We couldnt possibly turn around and we couldnt back out the way we had come. So, it was either abandon the vehicle or try and get around the bollards and continue our journey into the great unknown. I carefully snaked the car around the black and red post that was blocking the path, almost peeling off the right side of the Volvo on a granite church from the 13th Century, and we emerged into a crowded plaza with paths radiating off in different directions. Where to now? It was at that point the constable appeared, shaking his head sternly and waving for us to stop what we were doing immediately. Inna rolled down the window and wailed, We are SO sorry, but we got lost! I nodded dumbly. The officer, a handsome, dark-haired gent in a tight-fitting black t-shirt, melted at the sound of Innas obvious and sincere distress. The Russian accident didnt hurt either. He casually leaned in the passenger side window, rested his beefy arms on the edge of the door and said, Where are you folks trying to get to? A parking garage! we both sort of wailed. He smiled and proceeded to patiently direct us out of the pedestrian section of town to the Marygate parking lot near St Marys Abbey. As we thanked the incredibly nice policeman for his help, I asked him if he had ever seen someone do something so stupid. He smiled. Well, not going the wrong direction like you were heading. And the bollards always stop them. But not you. So, no, I can not say that I have ever encountered a driver with such nerve and obvious determination. He smiled and gestured for us to pass. At no point in this comical exchange did a ticket or even a stern lecture come into play. The constable was merely doing what I think we would ALL hope for and expect from our police, and that is to help us and keep us safe -- not pounce on us, take money out of our pockets, or start in with a warning when we are in need of some assistance. And so I ask you: Would you now agree with my original assessment that the British are indeed an enlightened bunch of people? And if you still arent convinced, they have roundabouts instead of traffic lights so you dont spend a few weeks out of your life each year sitting impatiently at red lights, and they also serve a brilliant delight called a breakfast pizza.
Posted on: Sat, 02 Aug 2014 22:07:45 +0000
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