My British-Driving Adventure

We were in the third week of a motor trip through England, Scotland and Wales, a week in which I struggled to adjust to a car with the steering wheel on the right while driving on the left side of the road.

During the first few weeks, we had experienced numerous examples of uncommon British civility : people lined up quietly and in an orderly manner at bus stops and taxi stands...parents keeping tight control over rambunctious youngsters in restaurants and public places. A sharp contrast with the less courteous, less orderly scenes we had become accustomed to here at home.

And then came the ultimate experience that forever endeared us to our cousins from across the pond. We had arrived at York, and had become lost driving through that bustling city in search of our hotel. When I finally spotted the hotel's sign at the corner of one of the city's main thoroughfares, I made a left turn into the adjacent one-way side street.

Still unsure of how to gauge distances from my new location on the right side of the car, I pulled close to the curb and stepped out, heading for the hotel. Just then, a huge truck turned into the same street, only to stop inches from my car. It was then that I noticed that while the nose of my car was properly nestled close to the curb, the rest of the car was on an angle, with the rear (the "boot") sticking out into the street, preventing the huge truck from completing its turn.

I was obviously in the wrong, and as a native New Yorker, I immediately braced for what I knew would have been the truck driver's reaction, had this scene occurred back home. Instead, the burly driver rolled down his window, and in a thick cockney accent meant to be sarcastic, but tempered by cockney charm, said: "Is that the best you can do?"

Any wonder we fell in love with the Brits?