Driving in Yorkshire.
The left-hand lane thing isn't that bad, really. You get used to it remarkably quickly. (Roundabouts are a bit trickier.)
I tend to avoid the A roads (two-lane roads -- no shoulder, but they do have a white line down the middle), which are sort of the local highways. I stick to the B roads, which are about a lane and a half wide. With no shoulder. Meeting an articulated lorry (read: semi) on one of these, with stone walls immediately on either side, while coming through a decreasing-radius turn at the crest of a hill... now that can get your blood pumping. Especially as the national speed limit is sixty MPH, and people don't hesitate to go that fast. It's simultaneously terrifying and liberating. I thank heavens for my motorcycle riding; I don't think I was a good enough driver to cope with the roads here before I learned to really pay attention to what was going on.
And because the dales seem to run east-to-west here, you're constantly twisting and turning and barrelling up hills and down into valleys; it's largely third- and fourth-gear work. Very interesting, very engaging, and vastly different from the endless fifth-gear drone that is the American highway. The car is filthy from all the back-road driving. Loving it.
Now all I need is a motorcycle, so I can do this like it's meant to be done. (Of course, to afford a bike I need a job... and to get to a job I'll need a bike. Catch 22!)
I tend to avoid the A roads (two-lane roads -- no shoulder, but they do have a white line down the middle), which are sort of the local highways. I stick to the B roads, which are about a lane and a half wide. With no shoulder. Meeting an articulated lorry (read: semi) on one of these, with stone walls immediately on either side, while coming through a decreasing-radius turn at the crest of a hill... now that can get your blood pumping. Especially as the national speed limit is sixty MPH, and people don't hesitate to go that fast. It's simultaneously terrifying and liberating. I thank heavens for my motorcycle riding; I don't think I was a good enough driver to cope with the roads here before I learned to really pay attention to what was going on.
And because the dales seem to run east-to-west here, you're constantly twisting and turning and barrelling up hills and down into valleys; it's largely third- and fourth-gear work. Very interesting, very engaging, and vastly different from the endless fifth-gear drone that is the American highway. The car is filthy from all the back-road driving. Loving it.
Now all I need is a motorcycle, so I can do this like it's meant to be done. (Of course, to afford a bike I need a job... and to get to a job I'll need a bike. Catch 22!)