Ahhhhhhghghghghghghghghghg! Or, How to Drive in the UK

Our trip to the UK is in the books and I think the first day of driving aged Katie about 10 years. She and I can both attest that driving on the other side of the road is not half as strange as riding passenger for some reason.  Lucky for me, she was usually the passenger.

We specifically booked a flight landing late at night so we could get some sleep and start running on a new time zone in the morning. Therefore, I had made sure to book a rental car from a company that listed itself as open 24 hours.

They lied.

Of course we only figure this out after waiting 45 min for the shuttle. Unlike the 8 other furious customers, we cut bait and made it over to another rental car facility right before closing. This is a classic way to be gouged on a rental fee - never do this if it's on your own dime. This is also how we met "Mo."

Out of the 4-5 people still milling around behind the counter we are helped by a very friendly guy of Indian descent (Mo) whose mode and manner leave you wondering if he's being sincere or mocking you. After bleeding me dry on the rental fee he then says that adding a 2nd driver will cost an extra 10 quid a day. Yeah, right buddy. Katie and I turn to each other as if on cue and have a very loud, very American conversation we call "The Scene."

This move requires two people and goes something like this: one person loudly states the baseline argument against the fee, the second person angrily states the supporting evidence as if arguing with the first person. This further angers the first person who spits out the next build of the argument, etc. In this way you build the case against the third person (Mo) without actually given him a chance to counter and while creating a feeling of anxiety. Miraculously, Mo lasted 45 seconds before somehow figuring out that he didn't have to charge us for a second driver.

Mo finishes up the paper work and directs us outside where he says another agent will assist in getting our car. We walk outside and talk to... Mo. Where did he come from? Out of the handful of people "working" he apparently has two jobs. He pulls a car around and we check it for damage. He whips out a card the size of a tablet and says, "We only care about anything larger than this card." And then proceeds to inspect the car as if with a magnifying glass a couple inches away from the surface. I thought he was trying to be funny, but he took 5 min and went over the entire surface of the car that way!

So, we hop in the car, pull up to the exit booth, and out pops... Mo! The guy is ubiquitous. "It's me again!" he says cheerfully as he takes our papers. Great, one last challenge: drive 6 miles in a nearly straight shot to our hotel.

I'd printed out directions and maps for our entire trip before hand. I hand Katie the directions, designate her navigator and we are off! In England the road signs don't normally tell you the name of the road so much as the place the road takes you to. This sounds perfectly logical if you know where you're going. In practice, it sucks.

Couple that with the fact that arrows here don't always point the direction you should go and are color coded. Also, 3 out of 4 approaches to our hotel were blocked off by road construction. Want to guess how long it took to get to our hotel? 1 hour 15 minutes. 6 miles. No traffic. We're rocking this drive-in-the-UK thing.

After the first road block, we went down a side road and almost accidentally made it to the hotel. We ended up back at the roadblock in time to see another lone car. Follow him! Well, we lost him, but we did find road block number 2.

Then we entered a Bermuda Triangle-like vortex of driving. No matter what road we turned down we kept ending up back at the same spot. It turns out the map I'd printed for Katie had no road names on it. She attempted to correct for it by telling me the direction her phone said we were heading. Magically, we were somehow always headed west. Even when I made a U-turn.

Eventually, we stopped (after much pleading from Katie) at a Holiday Inn where we were able to get directions from the night auditor and make it to our hotel. We had been within a mile of the hotel most of the time driving around.

The next morning we were confident that we could make it out of Windsor and on our way toward Salisbury. We drove out of the hotel and straight into the Bermuda Triangle-like vortex. After passing the same mall twice by driving in different directions, we bought a sim card and put our faith in Google Maps.

Google successfully got us out into the country where roads are 1.5 lanes wide, lined by hedgerows, and sport opposing traffic at 60 mph. I'm pretty sure that Katie had an actual heart attack at one point, but was defibrillated by a pair of pot holes I was forced to hit.

Oh, and don't hug the hedge rows, sometimes they give way to brick buildings. Also, park anywhere you like, facing any direction. Turns out rear view mirrors are considered dispensable parts of the car in the UK.

In the end , the car suffered no visible damage and I'm sold on roundabouts. Even Katie worked up some significant time behind the wheel. We're in good shape now for doing it in a minivan next year...

When we picked up the car Katie said it was so "tiny".  After the first day she changed her mind and said this car was too big for UK roads. 

Of course Katie made me take a picture when I finally relented and bought a SIM card at the mall.