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.