My sporadic blogging oflate is due to a major change — I’m transitioning jobs, having finished my last day with my previous employer Friday only to get on a plane Saturday, fly to Ireland, and begin my first day with my new employer (based in Dublin) on Monday.
It’s been an amazing experience, not least because the trip has occasioned my first experience driving on the “wrong” side of the road. I’ve been nervous about it for some time; I imagined that I’d arrive in Ireland and my jet-lagged mind would turn the wrong way at the first intersection I encountered.
Well, so far so good. I rented my car, got lots of insurance, pushed and shoved my (modest) suitcase into the smallest car I’ve ever seen, much less driven, and started driving around on the left side of the road.
It’s an odd experience for two reasons. First, I’m not used to *thinking* about driving. It’s something for which I usually rely on muscle memory, saving all other cognitive processes for grumpily judging other drivers.
Second, the muscle memory is still very much there. I’m experiencing a kind of dual-mind in which I’m intellectually telling myself “stay left,” but every unconscious process I have is simultaneously pulling me the other direction. This duality really freaked me out when I was driving down a road and someone pulled onto the road from an intersection ahead of me. The other car turned to travel toward me, and my intellectual mind said “they are turning into the right lane,” but my body erupted in alarms “YOU’RE IN THE WRONG LANE! GET OVER!” My little car began swerving slightly to and fro as I fought with myself, but I made it through without driving off the road into the trees.
Only four more days to go, then I have to try and switch back to driving the “right” way. Ugh.
Email: chris(at)chrishoover(dot)org
Karen Gamble | 01-Nov-07 at 5:47 pm | Permalink
Your little car reminded me of our trip to England/Scotland in 2000. Pete volunteered to drive. Actually, I refused to drive, knowing that at any minute, I too would swerve back onto the “right” side of the road, thereby leaving my daughter parentless — and all my fault. (Oh yeah, I’m so Catholic…) When we were in London for our last day, eating lunch at a really nice pub, we saw a car that looked like a shoe. Small shoe, at that. It held *maybe* one adult, if it was a thin adult. Pete and I did a double take, blinked twice, and went back to our pub meal.
Thanks for the memories, & have a safe trip home.