|No driving in London!|
Most exciting was driving the roads of England and Wales, particularly the narrow lanes of the countryside, lined with gray stone walls. How we returned the car without a huge gash on the passenger side is a miracle.
|The BIG car and me in Dover|
On the first very long day of driving we became well acquainted with three features of the Volvo: BLIS, DAC and LDW. The BLIS button (which we both misread as BUS) caused a red light to appear on the side view mirror. Did it know when we passed a bus? Kind of spooky. And why would we care? No, it simply lit up every time there was any kind of vehicle in the Blind Spot. Our Blind Spot Information System was actually quite handy.
|Yup--a 2 lane road!|
And what is a bollard you may well ask? Steel and concrete poles or barriers to block off a street. In Liverpool when Gary went to park the car, while I registered at the hotel, he took a long time finally showing up at the registration desk. Understandable, I thought, with all the narrow cobblestoned streets in this gentrified hipster warehouse district. Our loovley GPS lady had faltered for the first time, misguiding us to turn into a one way street, so I had hopped out to find the hotel. Gary had continued straight and progressed halfway down the plaza past the bollards, when it became obvious it was a pedestrian mall.
Gary did get better. Slowing down helped. "The right lane is the passing lane" I kept yelling.
HIM: "I hate to have a line of cars behind me."
ME: "Let them wait--Keep Calm and Mind the Speed Limits"
No one else did and Gary developed a particular dislike for Audis, who always seemed to be the ones tailgating and aching to pass.
|Those stone walls|
|3 Million sheep go wherever they want|
|Be careful exiting the hotel's front door|
We saw no troopers or highway patrols in England or Wales, but signs warned of surveillance cameras in use. By the second day we were running with the pack and I've been checking the mailbox for our list of tickets. Wonder how many pounds that will come to?
|Who cares? Relaxing at pub with mussels and a pint.|