August
12, 1994…. That fateful day when we (the family) boarded a plane at Heathrow
Airport and started on our journey to our new life in California, where the
streets were paved in gold…. Or so we had heard. It’s been nearly 20 years and
I still haven’t found those pavements, but I’m still looking!
It
was weird, that first year. Moving from a fairly busy town in South London to,
basically, the middle of the desert. For a while we were living in the 'high
desert,' on a two mile dirt road with no television and just, well dirt…. What a
culture shock! It didn’t take long for us to look for the nearest civilization
and get the heck out of that dust basin. We moved down the hill –that’s it, not
far, but you wouldn’t believe the difference – oh joy, actual grass, no horses,
no dust!
 |
| I could have done with this for the first two years! |
The
biggest hurdle? Trying to remember to drive on the wrong side of the road. Now,
I’m not saying I’m a brilliant driver (I am), but I do have a problem with
my right and left. Tell me to go right and I will invariably go left – I’m sure
I’m not the only one with this problem, but try getting into a car and driving
on the “other” side of the road, especially when there are no lines down the
middle. A couple of near misses didn’t even phase me, I still managed to get it
wrong. I think over time I’ve been quite successful.
However, there are still times I get in the wrong
side of the car… try driving off when you realize you’re sitting in the
passenger seat.
And I would like to ask WHY? Why America do you need to drive on the wrong
side – this isn’t Europe. There’s no need to be fancy. I can understand the
French wanting to confuse us, but aren’t England and the US supposed to be
related, cousins or something… now that’s a dysfunctional family - stop being mean to us.
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