Not for the faint hearted…
In a very literal sense, driving in Britain is nerve-wracking. Sitting on (our) driver’s side as a passenger is also an adventure. For example, sitting on the left side of the car one is accustomed to having the mirrors adjusted for driving. When they are not, one’s brain keeps sending alarm signals at every reflection or glimpsed movement, causing one to either gasp (whereby the driver slams on the brakes anticipating an imminent crash) or apply one’s foot to the (non-existent) brake on one’s own side, eliciting laughter on the part of one’s traveling companion.
One of the hardest things about driving over here is that their roads are painfully narrow. One of the other things that is bigger in America, I guess. We travelled on “highways” that in America would be lucky to be called “alleys” if not “pedestrian only” roads, where the speed limit was 60mph and they didn’t hesitate to not only push that speed, but flagrantly disobey it. We flagrantly disobeyed it but in the other direction, choosing to go 40 instead of 60.
We’ve never been so excited for a motorway in our lives…
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