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"Originality is the fine art of remembering what you hear,
but forgetting where you heard it."
-Laurence J. Peter
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"Read not to contradict and confute,
nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider."
-Francis Bacon
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Most people think theyīre good drivers. And I am no exception to that rule. But of course I had to
take driving lessons, because I wasnīt born with driving skills. I had to learn how to drive. Makes
sense, doesnīt it?
In fact, I had to take lessons and exams twice. Once in my own country, and once again when I lived
in Britain. Since I moved around a lot, I took lessons in different towns in both England and Wales.
I had driving lessons in Plymouth,
Exmouth (both in Devon),
and finally one or two in
Pontypool (Wales).
The one or two I had in Pontypool were the most effective. Soon after my arrival there I heard
that my landlord was a driving instructor, and one with a good reputation at that. I soon found out
why he was so effective. Whenever I would do something with my left hand that was not to his liking,
like letting it rest on the gearstick, he would simply slap my hand - hard! Gave me quite a shock the
first time, I can tell you that! I thought corporal punishment had been abolished, but apparently not
in all kinds of education. Anyhow, as you can imagine, you donīt repeat something if it earns
you a hard slap on the hand. After, I think, only two lessons with this instructor I was deemed ready
for my driving examination. And after that I not only had a driverīs licence from my own country, but
also a British one.
But Iīm getting sidetracked. Before those final two driving lessons in Wales, I was taking some
driving lessons in Exmouth, trying to get used to the
different demands British traffic rules make, and practicing the use of my left hand for operating
the gearstick. (Although in my country the steering wheel is on the left, I do consider it to be the
right side of the car for a steering wheel -
however confusing that may sound to you -
and this means that operating the gearstick with the right hand is what Iīm really used to.)
After a few lessons my driving instructor was satisfied
that I did well in town traffic. (Exmouth may not be a very big town, but in the summer the
population more than doubles temporarily, due to all the beach tourists that crowd the place. So
the traffic gets relatively heavy there in the warmer months of the year, and if you do well in that
traffic, you do well in town traffic. Period.) So it was time to spend a lesson outside Exmouth. We
drove to Budleigh Salterton. Not exactly a
metropole either, but it got me out driving on country roads.
When we drove into Budleigh, he decided to let me drive into the town centre, drive around
a bit, and then return to Exmouth. In order to get back into the direction of Exmouth, we had to take
a few narrow back streets. In one of them someone was loading groceries into a big, shiny
Jaguar. On the pavement a lot more boxes were waiting to be loaded. My instructor decided not to
wait for it, since the Jaguar was blocking the way. He walked over to the driver, an elderly lady,
and asked if she could just for a moment back the Jaguar into a side street, making room for us to
pass and be on our way. I had expected him to ask, get the lady to consent, and then return to the
car so we could drive on. But there was a long discussion, shaking of her head, gesticulating,
shaking of his head - by the looks of it in disbelief - and finally a happy end to the situation:
she gave him the keys to the Jag, and he backed it into the side street. When he returned, he
was laughing.
"Unbelievable, but true," he said. "She drives a very nice car indeed, but doesnīt know how to
put it in reverse!" He was right. I couldnīt believe it. How did she ever get a driverīs licence,
I enquired. And he explained that the lady was of the right age to have been at least 21 at the time
that driverīs licences were introduced in Britain. And if you already drove a car when licences were
introduced, it was sort of taken for granted that you could drive. Unfortunately, in this case that
was not quite true. She could drive allright, but only forward. She had never put a car in reverse
in her life. We were laughing all the way back to Exmouth.
This is 23 years ago. And I had almost forgotten it. But some years ago I went to live in a small
village myself, a village smaller than Budleigh Salterton. The street where I live, has a dead end.
And it is also the narrowest part of the street. None of the houses have a parking space right in front.
There is one communal parking space, with a capacity for six cars. The six spaces are clearly
marked in black stones, with red stones in between, so each space is easily recognised. And since
there are at least six people who want to park their car there, having six spaces is no luxury.
And having everyone making the best use of each space is essential.
In our street we also have our share of elderly ladies. One of them is one of the car owners
who need this parking space. And I am one of the five others who needs it. You could say we are
dependent on one another for our parking spaces, for if one of us doesnīt park right, at least
one of the others has a parking problem.
A few months ago this lady I mentioned started parking her car the wrong way. She parked it in
such a way that it was exactly halfway two parking spaces, exactly on top of the red bricks that
divide the black parking spaces. Sometimes that would prevent me from parking there at all. I am
often the last one to arrive, so if two spaces are taken by one car, there isnīt any space left
for mine. But sometimes one of the other car owners would have parked their car a little more to the
left or the right, enabling me to squeeze in anyway. That of course reduced the space between the
cars somewhat, but I had little choice. Park elsewhere, in a spot that is not officially a parking
space in a narrow street (itīs a little over two yards wide at its narrowest), and someone else
has a problem. So thatīs out of the question. You either park in one of those six parking spaces, or
you donīt park in your own street at all.
One day, after her car had been parked there very inconveniently indeed for two weeks during her
holiday, I saw her working in the garden and decided to try my luck and speak to her about it. She
had never greeted me before on the street, so I decided to be as diplomatic as I could. "I wonder
if I could ask you something," I said. "No," she said in a harsh tone, without even looking up
from gathering her hedge clippings. But I would not let myself deterred that easily. Since she was
already using a harsh tone, I decided to be even more diplomatic than I had planned to be. "Hoping
that this will not offend you in any way, I have a favour to ask," I started again. She briefly
looked at me, but then turned to her hedge clippings again and repeated: "No," clearly hoping that
this would lead me to desist. But I would not. By now the "conversation" had attracted her
neighbourīs attention. "Even if you donīt want to talk about it," I continued, now a little less
patient, "the parking problem here is something we do need to discuss. I would appreciate it very
much if you could park you car in just one of the spaces provided..." at which time she cut me
off, and suddenly had a lot more to say than just "No". Before I knew what was happening to me, she was
ranting on about how I made getting in and out of her car impossible by parking my car so close to hers.
My objections that this only happened whenever she did not park her car exactly in one of the marked spaces,
made no impression on her whatsoever. She felt completely justified in her parking behaviour, she said.
And when I asked "But you donīt mean to say, I hope, that you really want to take up the space for two cars
and deprive someone else of a parking space for his car?", I was totally surprised when she said
"Yes, and Iīd take three spaces if only I could!" Shocked by such a lack of social conscience,
I made one more attempt to explain my position somewhat further. But she decided
to drown out my words with "No, no, no!", and walked away, making any kind of discussion absolutely
impossible.
Her neighbour, who had followed most of the latter part of the exchange, shed some light on the mystery
for me. Initially I was absolutely baffled to find that having a decent discussion about the problem was
impossible. But her neighbour explained that the lady next door didnīt handle cars as well as could
be expected, and tried to take more space for her car to compensate for her lack of manoeuvring skills.
She would not go into further detail, but I had heard enough. Devonshire memories drifted back into my mind.
Budleigh Salterton all over again, I thought - only worse.
At least the lady with the Jaguar had admitted her problem and had accepted help.
The incident was far at the back of my mind when I took my family on holiday to Britain. On our way
to our holiday cottage in North Devon,
I decided to make a stop in Budleigh Salterton  and collect some memories.
The next morning we would drive to Exmouth, look at my old house there, and drive up
north to settle in at South Molton. We had a very nice stay at a lovely Bed & Breakfast in Budleigh.
And the next morning, before driving to Exmouth, my wife wanted to look at some shops in the High Street.
In search of a place to park the car, we passed the street in which I had had to wait for the lady
and the Jaguar so many years ago. I could see her in my mindīs eye. And suddenly I imagined
seeing the lady from my own street at home, here in Budleigh. She was in her Nissan Micra,
parked in front of the Jag, in the middle of the street, and not budging. I smiled all the way to Exmouth...
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Disclaimer
This column is only for the purpose of entertaining, educating or
giving food for thought. Any persons, characters, countries, institutions or groups
mentioned are - as a matter of principle - fictional: any resemblance to existing ones is
purely by chance. ;-)
If the content of this column offends anyone, please accept the
columnist's apologies: no offense was intended.
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column noun
1a: a vertical arrangement of items on a page
b: a vertical section of a printed page
c: an accumulation arranged vertically
d: a department or feature (as of humor, sports,
literary reviewing, or gossip) in a newspaper or periodical, under a permanent
title and generally reflecting the writer's individual tastes and point of view.
2: a supporting pillar
3: a form, structure, or formation shaped like a column
(Webster's Dictionary.)
Relevant reads:
Good Driving, Amelia Bedelia!
 Responsible Driving
License to Drive
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