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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.
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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.
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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.
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Here are the hills.
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