Mr. Toad’s Latest Wild Ride

For aficionados of Kenneth Grahame’s classic The Wind in the Willows--remember the part where the wealthy Mr. Toad buys a motorcar and careens recklessly through the English countryside? Well, Steve and I have been traversing the same narrow, winding, stone-wall-bordered roads this past week, and we have a whole new sense of horror at the thought of Toad’s escapades. Believe me, “careening” is the LAST thing you should do, especially while remembering to drive on the left. 

When I planned our UK adventure months ago, I had thought that we’d have the best of all possible worlds—a week in London and Edinburgh, utilizing their fine public transport, followed by a week behind the wheel, as we drove to less accessible locales. It would be a lark! We’d be able to really enjoy the picturesque villages as we passed! In fact, after the hustle-bustle of the cities, our motoring sojourn would be relaxing!

Now mind you, nowhere in my fantasy did I picture myself being the driver. No, this idyllic daydream always featured my intrepid hubby as chauffeur. I mean, Steve actually ENJOYS driving in New York City. This would be a piece of (tea)cake! 

Fantasy careened into reality from the moment we arrived at the rental car desk in Scotland. I’d made sure our credit card covered all required insurance, and I’d reserved a small Peugeot (small being the operative word). Nevertheless, we were somehow talked into a much larger vehicle ($$$) because the agent said it would be “safer,” PLUS the rental company’s extra insurance ($$$) because it would cover “absolutely anything that could go wrong.”

From there, Steve was given the keys to a big BMW and we were sent out of the lot and into Edinburgh traffic on a rainy day. Poor Steve! It was a (nearly) crash course in driving on the other side of the street, plus he had to deal with my abysmal map reading skills (the car’s GPS did not work and we had to use directions on our phones). We made it out of the city and onto a highway toward the coast, our next destination. Along the way, we learned a) roundabouts are EVERYWHERE b) you want M roadways when possible; those are the biggest highways, followed by As and finally Bs (which are the real back roads) c) British signage is different (“give way” is “yield”, “lay by” is “pull off,” heavy traffic ahead is “queues likely”) and d) were we kidding? Driving is far too intense to even NOTICE the scenery, much less “relax.” 

It's our final day in Europe, and we will be very sad to leave. But I will not miss our “wild” rides through the English countryside. My arm will be sore for days from gripping the passenger car door handle, leaning my body towards the center line (my magical way to remind Steve not to hug the curb).

Heading back home to Philly, where only the death-defying Schuylkill Expressway beckons. Should be relaxing.