Everyone is the best driver and everyone is convinced that every other driver on the road is, at best, a plonker. At worst, and in the heat of a nasty cut-up at the lights manoeuvre, the offending driver (most likely in a BMW) is a ******* *******. It is again reassuring to note that some things are constant, and the utter disregard and arrogance of every BMW driver, is perfectly mirrored out here in California.
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| Daily traffic stretches for miles to cross the Bay Bridge |
I've often been told that the traffic in San Francisco is "terrible" and our choice of area to live in, being a couple of miles from the motorway (freeway) for The Missus' commute to work, was an ill advised. choice. Let me say now that traffic here in not a patch on London. Granted it is heavy, every American loves their car, but it flows. While the Californians do drive like they're on the dodgems, the technique is significantly less aggressive than the average Londoner. The dodgems is a good analogy. Perhaps it's the fact that most American cars are built and drive like a four year old's toy, encourages American's to drive like they're on a lollipop sugar rush.
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| Cheerfully prepared for the long and not so winding road |
So, with concerns over traffic and the widespread inability to drive like a sane adult, I was ready with only mild trepidation to set off on my first "ROAD TRIP". I can't say that without thinking of a thousand teen movies. "ROAD TRIP" shrieks around my head, much the same way as "SPRING BREAK" does. The Missus had a So Cal (I must resist the lingo) business trip that took her away from home for three days and, being at a loose end, it seemed a good idea to pop down to meet her on the LA leg. Well, not LA, Pasadena which, it is now apparent, is some distance from the bright lights and glamour of Hollywood.
On Google Maps the drive doesn't look so bad, the distance being anything from two to four inches, depending on how much I zoomed in or out while checking the route online. Americans please note it is a "root" not a "rowt". Whilst checking all relevant statistics not even the 7hr 30 minute drive time deterred me. I'd shave a significant chunk from that, or so I thought.
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| Just keep going south |
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Fortunately I had prepared for the drive, Ipod loaded with several
Desert Island Discs podcasts not to mention
The Archers and anything else I could grab from The Beeb. I also pledged to count as many Californian Veers as I could.
The Californian Veer is a driving technique that I had noted within a week of being here, but the name has been given by a good friend of mine who lives on the East Coast (thank you Christian). It goes hand in hand with bumper car style driving and is every Californian's fantastic ability to move from the outside of a motorway (freeway) and cut, across five lanes of fast moving, or indeed slow moving (heavy) traffic, normally to get to an exit. This may come from a driver's lack of focus in noticing that the required junction is not just fast approaching but is in fact, RIGHT THERE. It may also come from a cheeky attempt to stay in the fastest moving lane until the very last minute. Either way it is an insane and unnerving tick that everyone else must always be prepared for. Disappointingly I counted only four on my journey but this must be because the majority of the road was long, straight and an incredibly boring two lane drive with few exits and little to look at.
Here lies another similarity to England. Take a two lane motorway loaded with a near infinite number of lorries and you will spend the majority of the time stuck behind one lorry driver after the next overtaking another lorry where the difference in speed between each is, at very best, one mile an hour. Route 5 is the M26 of California, though while the UK road is about twenty miles long, my journey down to LA seemed about the same distance as driving from San Francisco to The Moon. Thank God for Kirsty Young and some very interesting interviews, not least the one with Betty from Coronation Street. Who knew?
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| The road goes on |
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The drive to the outskirts of LA was easy, long and uneventful with not a single wrong turn, after all how could there be? My never ending conviction that a quick look at Google Maps is all I need to commit a route to memory did however finally prove ill-founded. The last ten miles took significantly longer than expected and involved a number of u-turns and a lot, I do mean a lot, of swearing.
Yet the whole experience was worth it. The Missus hasn't looked to pleased to see me in a long time and we were able to drop in on the lovely Fred and Laura who have been living in the same house in Pasadena since the 50s and who, I do hope, continue to religiously have their 4pm cocktail by the pool each day. It is said that LA can be a pain to live in, but if you can live like that in your eighties, it can't be that bad.
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| This would be a downside to LA |
Thanks to The Missus' company we also stayed in the Westin Pasadena. A lovely hotel with an enormo-bed, outdoor pool and jacuzzi. Again, LA can't be all bad when you can swim outside in February.
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| A pool all to myself |
The early morning dip meant I was refreshed and ready to race The Missus' plane home. She won. The adventure however was a solid introduction to California driving and for when I have to take a test, though I am still smarting that I have to do so. I can drive a manual car, in London, for crying out loud, yet the authorities want me, ME, to take a test on how to drive a fairground ride. Obama, we shall have words.
