The dream was always the same. I’d be driving fast on a narrow winding road. I would realize that the steering wheel was gone, and there were no brakes. I would go careening along, unable to control the car. Miraculously, the inevitable crash never occurred, but the terror just went on and on. I have not had this dream for years, until today. Except today…. It was REAL.
Ireland has notoriously narrow roads. Marion has driven here before, so she drove as we headed out to Killarney National Forest. Another similarity to the US: park roads are the worst. So, I got to sit where the steering wheel is supposed to be, in sheer terror as she narrowly missed stone walls, ditches, other vehicles and the occasional crazy person on a bicycle.
Ultimately, I decided that it would be less scary to be driving, and would not be dissuaded.
I did not get a mile, or even a kilometer. Several meters, maybe, before hitting a big rock.
Marion, reasonably expecting me to be a big dumb jerk, headed for the hills while I dealt with it. To my surprise, I enjoyed changing the tire. I’ve changed lots and lots of tires in my time. I’m good at it. Its the only time all day I felt in the least bit in control of anything automotive. Put me in a good mood. The guys who mounted the new tire for us were great, and I cracked them up by saying I’d rather fix a flat than drive on the left. Marion drives from now on.
Here are the hills.