It’s late May in State College, most of the Penn State students are gone, and we locals have the town to ourselves again. It’s also a time when seemingly all the drivers who wouldn’t normally take to the roads of Happy Valley decide it’s OK to go out and cruise around at 10 miles an hour below the speed limit.
Not that I’m in a hurry or anything, but, c’mon folks, at least stay near the speed limit!
Alright, I’m just kidding. Well, sort of.
Although, it could just be that my current impressions of our local drivers might be a bit tainted. Or they might be more a function of me reacclimating myself to our local roads.
You see, last week my wife and I returned from two weeks driving around Ireland. We had a wonderful time, saw a lot of beautiful scenery, and spent plenty of time driving on roads that were barely wide enough for one small car, let alone two.
When we left State College in late April, it was a normal bustling semester around town. And when we got back, we felt like we had landed on a vacant planet. From the time we crested Tussey Mountain at Jo Hays Vista on Rt 26 – we drove up the back roads from Dulles Airport – until we pulled into our neighborhood in west Ferguson Township, we might have passed five cars on that early Saturday evening.
But as I’ve gotten out in the last week and driven around, I’ve encountered a few other cars and trucks. And that 1,000 miles we drove on the Emerald Isle in two weeks on those very narrow roads – with plenty of other vehicles – is still fresh in my mind.
Because many of those narrow roads over in Ireland had speed limits of 80 and 100 kilometers per hour. The equivalent of 50 and 62 miles per hour, respectively. On roads that I couldn’t begin to navigate safely at more than 40 mph. But some locals were able to not only navigate them at that speed, but go faster.
Which meant there were several times where a car was behind me that I was obviously slowing down. So, I did what I saw several other drivers do. I waited until there was a safe place on the left side of the road, put on my turn signal, reduced my speed, pulled over and let the car pass. Often, they would flash their lights in thanks, and drive on.
By doing this I not only relieved any stress I had about a car following me, but felt like I was being a kind tourist. A feeling that was reinforced many times as we drove into and through the numerous small towns we passed on our journey. Almost all of which had radar signs as you approached the town that not only told you how fast you were going, but gave you a green smiley face if you were at or below the speed limit. A kind way of thanking you that my wife really enjoyed seeing!
Another driving kindness that my wife noticed was the behavior on highways. During our trip the map app on our phone did occasionally put us on regular highways – a nice change of pace from the somewhat harrowing local roads where we spent most of our driving time.
My wife commented that drivers on those highways did not seem to stay in the right lane (when you drive on the left side of the road, the right lane on the highway is the “passing” lane). They mostly passed the vehicle they were behind and then got back over to the left lane. A kindness that she really appreciated.
Of course, there was a car or two that did sit in the passing lane even when they weren’t passing. But we rationalized that as other American tourists driving like they do at home!
Because, the one thing we did find was that there were a lot of Americans in Ireland. An extraordinary number of Americans. Not only in Dublin – where our hotel appeared to be exclusively Americans – but even out in the rest of the country.
A prime example was the premier “tasting” we did at a distillery that was hours from Dublin, and the other four people in the tasting were — you know it — Americans.
And not just any Americans. They were from New Jersey, one of them was a Penn State grad, and all are Penn State football season-ticket holders. By the time we got done hashing out this year’s team, seat locations and parking spots, the distillery guide was asking if he should just let us conduct the tasting ourselves!
And there were a few places around the country where the Irish sensibility about safety out in the “wild” made us wonder how other Americans handled this “go wherever you want” policy. That is, there were a number of places where we found ourselves thinking that in the United States there would be signs, railings, fences, etc. warning people of a possible danger.
A great instance of this was on the island of Inishmore in the Aran Islands, where you could walk right up to the edge of a 300-foot-high, miles-long cliff that dropped right down to the ocean. Being indoctrinated Americans, we expected railings and fencing to be set many feet back from the edge, and appropriate signage informing you of possible impending doom.
Except nothing. No fence, no railing, no sign. Just a sheer drop of 100 meters down to the water. Being a bit afraid of heights I wouldn’t venture out to the edge while standing, but I did get on my stomach and hold my phone over the edge and take a picture.
In any case, our 15 days in Ireland was an overall good time, and we enjoyed the many hours we spent out in nature. Now, if we could just import some of their driving habits back here.
