Adventures in UK Driving

One thing I have always loved about living in the UK is that you don’t need a car. The UK isn’t the only place I have experienced this: you didn’t need a car in the suburb of Boston I grew up in, either. Ironic, then, that the last time I lived in the UK, I ended up in one of the few places where you really need a car.

I arrived in Newcastle and settled in Hexham. A persuasive friend told me that I wouldn’t need a car there because everything was walking distance within one mile. Of course, even as he was saying it, I knew there was no way I was going to want to walk a mile with groceries in the rain. But in the excitement of the moment, I let myself be persuaded. Sure enough, very quickly after moving in, I purchased a car.

Certain transactions in my life have gone so smoothly that I know there was involvement from other planes of existence. This happens all the time for me in England because I have so many relatives helping me from the other side. Almost as soon as I started looking, I found a Toyota Yaris in Hexham proper for a good price. It was ancient but ran well. I had bought my son a Toyota Yaris before we moved to Albuquerque together, and it had worked out great. I was grateful for the concurrence.

Every day I drove to work at the bottom of Hencotes. If I walked, it would take about twenty minutes. While I knew it would be good to walk instead of drive, when push came to shove, I was just too lazy. The drive was simple: no turns, one light, and mostly downhill. Every time I made the drive, I felt positive that at any moment I would clip an oncoming car, or that there would be the loud ricochet of a side swipe. Neither of those things ever happened. I knew they would not, but my American trained eyes felt like I was propelling through a pinhole surrounded by cars – oncoming, and parked. I just had to trust my intellect and hold my nerve. Although I managed that drive with less discomfort over time, I never completely got used to it.

Driving on the motorways was almost a joy, as long as there weren’t too many roundabouts. The A69 between Carlisle and Newcastle was about the size of typical California large road. Driven on by my insatiable desire to go to IKEA, I forced myself to handle the big roundabout onto the A1 to get to Metrocentre.[1]  That, too, eventually became comfortable. Motivation seemed to be the key to how far I would venture. I met up with a dear friend at a National Trust house for the day. I visited the Northumberland coast, and went to a crystal fair at a racecourse . I found my way into the suburbs of Northwest Newcastle to visit, and then retrieve, two kittens from their foster mum.

I did everything by the book. The UK government has an outstanding suite of online services. I studied for and passed the written test, then I was issued a provisional license. I was already allowed on the road, as I was within my first year in the UK with a foreign license. But it was nice to have double the permission. I spent two hours behind the wheel with an instructor, which was invaluable.

The pinnacle was driving myself and two kittens from Hexham down to London in a rental SUV. It was mostly peaceful. Down in London, only one person shouted at me in a weird little roundabout in the dark under the M25. A verbal scuffle in the parking lot of the Travelodge took place after the car was parked, not while driving. The next day, I successfully returned the car at LHR.  I felt that there was nothing I couldn’t do.

The theme once again is that when you are flung up a steep, hard road, you either manage, or you don’t. If you do, you gain confidence. I’ve been flung up rather more steep roads than I would have wanted, but on an existential level, I chose it all. I knew I could handle it, and I have. Go forth and try.

[1] The largest indoor mall in Europe. https://themetrocentre.co.uk/