DRIVING WITH A IRISH ACCENT

This morning in the company kitchen, there was a fellow who just came back from a vacation in Ireland, and as he talked it reminded me of my last and only visit to the Emerald Isle.

It seemed we landed in Dublin on the Little Woman’s birthday and rented a car. This arrangement was very brave on my part as I made all the arrangement back in the States. When I got to the rental place, it was a Monday morning, the beginning of a workweek, and we are talking mad crazed Monday morning back to work Dublin drivers, not the countryside. We planned to drive the perimeter of the country, along the coast, visiting Mullengar first, her Dad’s hometown, and continuing until we arrived back in Dublin. We almost never made it out of Dublin. As we got into our little GEO, I noticed the steering wheel was missing, the little Woman said, “you drive on this side of the car in Ireland genius,” pointing to the steering wheel. Being how the car was paid for, I decided to give it a try.

We pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, kind of like 5th Avenue and Queens Blvd., but all the drivers are Kamikaze pilots. Immediately I got over to my left and started to hug the centerline of the traffic as fear started to overtake me, and I realized I was supposed to turn right soon according to the map, and couldn’t figure it out! Do you go over to the left when you turn right, or do you go over to the right? I decided to pass the turn and continue to try to figure this out, thinking how lost could I possible get on a small island like the Republic of Ireland? After driving a while, with angry Monday morning commuters on their way to their jobs, with big trucks following me and threatening to roll right over me. The street started to narrow! Narrower and narrower the street became, soon it was one lane, and the cars were parked on both sides of the street, as I cruised about 65 to 70 mph down this street, along with everyone else.

It became apparent to me that soon I would run out of room along the sides, and would have to carry the car over my head as I tiptoed down the road. AS I SAILED ALONG, THE SIDE VIEW MIRROR ON THE LEFT SIDE OF THE CAR HIT A PARKED CAR. My wife started screaming at me, “You broke the mirror!!!” I yelled back, just slap it back in place, which she did, since it was on hinges. I come to a red light, stop and decide I would make the first left hand turn at the light, which I did. I go down and decide to turn around. Hello, it was a one-way street, and I was heading the wrong way. Just then, 4 cars came down the street all at once side by side, heading right at me! I pull over to my right, and wait for the cars to pass, and make a mad dash for it. After stopping a while to clean my seat and a change of underwear, I slowly pried my wife’s fingers off of my neck, one by one. I said “Toots, it’s time to let go” but the fear had deafened her as she tried to either continue to hold on for dear life, OR try to take my dear life with one squeeze.

More to come soon about vacation driving in Ireland.