I have been awarded penalty points for speeding in Wicklow, Kildare and Sligo (points now expired), been traced for exceeding limits in Tasmania and the Netherlands (all fines paid), driven through treacherous ice and snowdrifts in Northern Alberta, manoeuvred the Lincoln Tunnel, crossed the George Washington Bridge, survived the nightmare streets of Rome and Naples, almost crashed exiting Pisa airport, nearly fallen asleep at the wheel on several occasions and pulled over for a power-snooze, been part of several collisions in Kenya, and yet, I would class myself as a good, safe driver.
I used to text and drive (used to), and used to drive after one or even two drinks (used to), but now never sit in the driving seat after even a snifter of alcohol.
However despite all the obstacles thrown in our way such as rising fuel prices, congestion, road-rage, speeding and parking regulations – I love driving as much the next guy. It’s a long time since I was initially taught to drive by my Dad on the back-strand at Streedagh with the tide out, nonetheless I still relish setting out on road-trips at home and abroad. Perhaps it’s because for some our cars are almost like an extension of our homes, there is a feeling of territory, even down to at times savouring a spot of ‘dashboard-dining’.
What kind of driver are you? The nervous driver, with unnervingly angular stiff posture, making others impatient, as you religiously adhere to speed limits, proving the point that slow drivers can prove an even greater danger. The selfish inconsiderate road-owning driver, refusing to let others past. The dare-devil risk-taker believing your skills can overcome any traffic situation. The middle-lane road-hogging motorway driver forcing others to pass on the inside. The rubber-necker causing long tail-backs as you count casualties in pile-ups. The aggressive arrogant dangerous driver seething with road-rage, tailgating, swapping lanes and ‘birding’ your neighbours. The boy-racer speeding along narrow country roads, through busy estates, as the booming bass on your stereo rocks the neighbourhood. Or the mobile phone user, chatting, texting, focussing on your virtual GPS rather than the real road.
A large percentage of my life is spent being driven by Tour Managers, some of whom have fallen asleep at the wheel, braked constantly, or were fast-food junkies whose attention became divided between our safety and their ‘KFC Family Bucket’.
In Kenya, I have repeatedly taken my life into my own hands in the Nairobi streets and the Kenyan countryside, including several breakdowns, two crashes, and one near-overnight in prison because my driver had not one, but four threadbare bald tyres.
Driving abroad, particularly in certain countries can be a hair-raising experience. Aside from coping with the correct side of the road, you have to contend with automatic vs gears, unusual handbrakes, varying motorway rules, foreign language signs, tolls, and in some countries motorbikes, tuk-tuks, and matatus revving aggressively as they weave in and out of traffic. Add to the mix a symphony of horns, rickshaws, toxic fumes, a complete lack of lane discipline, as drivers simply overtake as it suits them, making traffic chaos into traffic anarchy. In Italy lanes are optional, on German autobahns speed is optional, and in Kenya safety is optional.
Of course when tourists rent cars in Ireland they need to learn to cope with loose straying farm animals, erratic tractors, and nonsensical and at times downright dangerous speed limits.
Is it me or are drivers using indicators and mirrors less? And why do people not have the courtesy to acknowledge when you wait to let them pass? What’s with drivers blatantly stealing a parking space which clearly has your name on it? To say nothing of the lack of lane discipline, tail-gating and driver inattention.
And what’s with Smart Cars – seriously? I only ever knew of one person who may have benefitted from a Smart Car, and that was a diminutive Dublin clergyman, who when driving his Opel Corsa made it look like a steering wheel with a baldpate, or a rally-driving egg. It’s kinda dangerous out there at times folks. Perhaps we ought to revise our rules of the road and exercise courtesy in 2015. Drivers, cyclists and pedestrians are all humans. Let’s start to enjoy driving again, and as the slogan goes – “Arrive alive!”
