A summary of driving abroad
As Mr. Driver’s Seat and Mrs. Passenger Seat have now been back in the states for more than a month, perhaps it’s time to stop boring everyone with my tales of life abroad. Friends, family and colleagues all agree.
That’ll be next week’s plan. Let us have just one more week in the old country, though.
The bright side: It was better than experienced travelers had warned me, and Fiat Tipo station wagon and Nissan Qashqai provided pleasant transport. This week we’ll explore the seamy underbelly of European driving, most of which came in the second half of our two-week stay.
Driving in Italy: Every time I mentioned I would be driving in Italy, people warned me that Italian drivers are among the worst.
Yet, it was like being back home in many parts of Pennsylvania (I’m looking at you, Philadelphia). Traffic stops and starts for no apparent reason; people don’t signal; and it’s every driver for himself.
On the highways, I noticed that for a significant minority of drivers, turn signals are to be avoided for changing lanes.
On the other hand, turn signals are often used to make Mr. Driver’s Seat think you’ll soon be moving to the right lane, then the vehicle proceeds to drift ever so slightly rightward but never changes lanes — assuring that I could not pass on the left or the right. I swear I saw this more than 100 times in 6 hours of driving from Turin toVenice and back.
If all major cities are like Turin … : Then it explains a lot.
I went to this industrial town to pick up the Fiat Tipo station wagon. And soon I noticed every thoroughfare (at least around the Fiat factory and into downtown) resembles Roosevelt Boulevard. There are about five lanes in each direction, separated by threegrassy medians.
But intersections involve the roundabout. While normally a great idea, this high number of lanes turns the circle into a free-for-all where everyone pushes his way in and no one knows which lane goes where.
Navigating Nice is nuts: This eastern French city is the lawless frontier.
Intersections throughout town abound that have no stop signs, no yield signs, nothing. The engineers must figure that you’re all going slow enough to stop in a hurry if needed.
It’s hard on newbies, because I didn’t realize this until I was approaching an intersection with no stop sign and witnessed a bus sail through from the cross street. “Man, if I’d been 3 seconds ahead of myself, I would no longer be here,” I thought. That’ll make you more cautious in a hurry, believe me.
Furthermore, while enjoying dinner at an outdoor cafe at an outdoor plaza, I noticed a Range Rover turn and drive slowly into the plaza and down the block. The driver proceeded on his merry way and no one seemed to bat an eye.
Half an hour later, he came through again, this time followed by a Smart. At least it’s not a class thing.
Stuck inside of Nice… : The traffic is epic. At all times, except very late at night, you’ll be stuck.
But the scenery makes up for it. From the Promenade de Anglais, from the mountain vistas, even the views of the buildings in the center of town.
Scooters and motorcycles are also popular in the sunny seaside resort, and they weave around the stopped cars in the narrow lanes with great regularity. This adds another level of angst for drivers.
Parking is a challenge: Downsize whatever size car you’re thinking of renting. Seriously.
I had a Nissan Qashqai (as noted in last week’s review, it’ll be available here as the Rogue Sport, a rather small crossover) and I had a terrible time finding room in several parking lots.
And street parking? One evening in Nice, I attempted to squeeze into one space, then gave up. I noticed a pharmacy truck behind me, and felt kind of bad for holding them up. I went around the corner, noticed the same truck behind me, and attempted a second spot.
I embarrassedly pulled out of there as well. Third time was a charm. The pharmacy guys applauded as they went past.