3: The Car

Day 3 was meant to be a resting day and it was. I took my bags (heretofore referred to as the “Elephants”) through Kings Cross Station and got on a 2 hour train trip to Leeds. By the time I herded the Elephants over to the hotel, it was clear that my body was going to rest whether I wanted it to or not — the late night in London had a price, after all! It was a nice place and I had a tasty dinner in the hotel restaurant. I felt brave and ordered a hamburger — chancy, based on my experiences of English “hamburgers” in my college days which consisted of a burger patty, a separate salad with salad dressing, and a hard roll. I’m happy to say they’ve come a long way in the right direction. This was an actual sandwich with all the correct ingredients. The only thing questionable was the “BBQ Relish” which was a bbq-sauce-flavored chutney with onions and some gelatin. Oof. But otherwise a great meal. I chatted with my server, another uni student working her way through school. She was amazing and she thought it was great that I was on an adventure all by myself.

Day 4. CAR DAY. I had been, um, “anticipating” this part of the trip with bated breath (I chose the word “bated” carefully here because it was a lot of big feelings I was having. The definition is “in a nervous and excited state anticipating what will happen.”). I’ve been to the UK a lot but have not driven before, and now this nutter thought it would be a great idea to rent a car and drive from Leeds to the Yorkshire Dales National Park her first time out. My first alarm bell was researching the trip the night before when I saw it was 71 miles away but would take over 2 hours to drive. My naive self simply thought, “Wonder why that is?” We’ll come back to that. And yes, I really did watch driving videos the night before. And yes, they saved my ass.

My second alarm bell was the car they rented me. I had asked for and was expecting a compact or economy sized car with GPS (“SatNav”). “Oh, no, Miss. We wanted to give you a free, proper upgrade since you’re from so far away and we want you to be comfortable.” I didn’t argue and now that particular moment lives on in regret for the rest of my days. It was a Nissan Qash-or-Cashcow-or-Quilt-something-or-other (too many Q’s and no U’s and my brain won’t hold onto the word) and the size of a US Rogue (NOTE: It’s called a QashQai, it turns out, but I absolutely can NOT remember it). Driving on the left took every, single brain cell and neural pathway I had and took an unnerving amount of concentration. I found that talking to myself while driving was key. “Ok, stay left here. If you don’t know where to point the car after this junction, take a second and figure it out. Stay left here. Left! Where the hell is the left side of your car? Find it fast! Stay left here…” You get the picture (or rather, the soundtrack…I’m kind of sorry it wasn’t recorded. Ha!) The CashCow-Quilt car was, indeed, comfortable and easy to manage on the A1 Motorway leaving the city. I was too inexperienced, though, to notice the gradual narrowing of all the roads the further north I drove. By the time I got to my destination, Hawes, my car was Gulliver and the roads were the tiny Lilliputians. The roads were incredibly narrow two-lane country roads without shoulders AT BEST. More often than not, they defaulted to single lanes. Did I mention that my car was big?! There was nothing about single lanes in any of the UK driving videos I watched. WTF.

I made it almost all the way into Hawes without incident. I was starting to have trouble judging where the left side of the car (now named “Bonnie Lass”) was in relation to the ersatz shoulders — which were usually stone walls or hedgerows right up against the lane. Or even better, parked cars that stuck out almost the entire width of the lane, so I would have to swing around them playing a combination game of “Chicken” and “Trust Fall” with the oncoming motorists.

Do you know what happens in little village towns on Saturday mornings? MARKETS! Know who rides through the Dales countryside every weekend? MOTORCYCLES! and BICYCLES! Thousands of them. Mayhem. Everyone in town knew the rules and I had suddenly forgotten them all, if I had even known them to begin with. Everyone was swinging around parked cars and hugging brick walls so we could all come through and...as I swerved left…nothing loud or dramatic, just a little bang in my ear. I had to keep moving. Up ahead was a parking space! I took it and sat there for awhile, letting the Mayhem pass me by. The car was scratched on a stone fence but I had purchased good insurance, so I tried to let it go. Across the road was a nice, warm pub with cider on tap, some pub lasagna, and super nice locals. My check-in at my Bed and Breakfast at 4pm was welcome and warm and I didn’t drive again for 4 whole days.