First time driving in England
Now, most people my age have been driving regularly for years.
I, however, have usually only driven in foreign countries, so, not all that frequently compared to the amount of time I spend in Sydney. Frankly, I was a professional passenger, as friends and family will attest. The thought of actually owning a car made my footloose and fancy-free feet itch all the more. So, only hiring a car for a specified time was acceptable to me, once again, usually overseas. But I had never done it in England.
Anyhoo, I hired a car online and arranged to have it delivered to the train station in Oxford (wanting to avoid the unpleasant prospect of London traffic, congestions charges, etc...) so that I could just jump right in and head off.
Well, all went according to plan, albeit an hour later - see previous entry to explain why - and the rep was there, but he had forgotten to provide me with a map or a GPS. Pretty vital things for any newby to English roads. I ended up having to follow him for 30 minutes (after he collected another hire car) to his office to collect said items. This turned out to be a true trial by fire...
There I was, getting the hang of a brand new VW Golf, which has a very sensitive clutch to accelerator ratio - to the point that the engine turns off if you don’t give it enough grunt - all while trying judge the car size, navigating strange roads in busy traffic and trying to keep the rep’s car in sight!
The 'engine turning off’ thing then happened three times in quick succession as I was trying to turn right onto a busy roadway at a T-junction, while a bus was bearing down on me from the right and the left side was (im)patiently waiting for me to get on with it. I got the hang of it all in the end, but it was a struggle.
Can you guess what this sign means?
It a symbol for the UK national speed limit, which depends on the type of road and the type of vehicle being driven.
Spot the speed signs...if you can!
Is it unreasonable to expect to see road signs telling you what speed you should be travelling?
Australia and North America manage to do it quite well... England, not so much. As I was a newbie to English roads, I hunted down a copy of the road rules book - that all learner drivers must read in order to get their license - before I set off, so as to learn the 'dos and don'ts'.
Here, you have to buy it from bookstores and it costs £2.50 and it tells you absolutely nothing about road signs, road markings or speed limits…! I had to ask my car rental rep every question I could think of about the speeds, rules, etc. He thankfully proved a font of knowledge. You’ll find this site very helpful.
So here goes…
There are no numbered speed signs on the motoways. You will see a white circle sign with a black diagonal slash through it - this means 'drive at the national limit'. But... there are two national limits, one for single carriageways (60 miles/hr) and one for double (70 miles/hr). Remember, nowhere does it say these numbers!
What they do have is speed camera signs everywhere (and I mean everywhere), which may or may not actually conceal a camera, dotted all over the roads of this green and lovely isle.
When you are travelling through small villages you will actually see a very small road sign saying 30 or 40, which applies to the confines of the village. But, when you leave, there will be, in all probability, no sign telling you that you can start driving at the national limit again.
If it hadn't been for my GPS (a story in and of itself) changing the speed limit on the screen, I would have driven for five days at 30 or 40 miles an hour… and it sometimes felt like I did (but more on driving the B-roads of East Anglia later!).
Weird parking
I would love to see an Australian parking ranger go down some of the English streets I drove through while traversing the countryside. They would have a field day giving out tickets willy-nilly, it would be all their Christmas dreams come true!
The English park like drunks: one wheel on the curb; two wheels on; angled in; angled out. If I hadn’t been nervously negotiating through said streets, I would have taken a picture as it was a truly priceless sight. They park like you see abandoned cars in those ‘end of the world’ movies. As if they just stopped where they were and got out. Which obviously they actually do.
I was to see this time and again during my travels, so it wasn’t just one street or one neighbourhood... it’s a national affliction!
Make friends with you GPS or it can turn on you!
Driving with Mary, the psychotic GPS
It seemed like such a good idea...
Hire a car in England for a week and visit all the ‘off the beaten track’ villages I had been missing when travelling on trains and buses. Then I got the GPS and it all went pear-shaped pretty quickly!
My rental rep set it to shortest route, no tolls… Which I now know means: the longest way possible, diverting off the road I should be on, taking me through a farm, then back onto the same road…this actually happened in the first hour of driving.
I was on the A329 heading north-east, it told me to turn off onto - get this - ‘unnamed road’ through Little Haseley then Great Haseley, only to have me turn back onto the A329, WHICH I HAD BEEN ON!
Clearly, Mary - for that is the voice he chose for me - hated me. I know this to be true for she got me to 40 miles from the my first day’s destination and then reset herself and start sending me back to whence I’d come.
I was on the A428 travelling at 70 miles/hr heading straight for Bury St Edmunds when that psychotic GPS had me turn left onto the A14, not right, which was correct. So there I am in the dark with rain pouring down driving at 30 miles/hr through a town called Godmanchester (I know, right?).
I had a feeling this was all wrong and turned around, looking for a roadside stop to pull into. Finding one, I went in and asked where I was. The cashier showed me on a map she happened to have handy (I think Mary had sent many people here!) and that was when I realised I was now heading north-west instead of south-east. A lovely couple assured me that all I had to do was ignore the psycho GPS and stay on the A14 until I bumped into the town.
It had taken me five and a half hours to get from Didcot to Bury St Edmunds… Go ahead, look it up on Google Maps.
It should have taken me three.
Originally written June 2014.