The Holiday 2008 (Part Three) - The Wrong/Right Way to Drive.

(Better late than never...)

On Holiday I took my first steps in becoming a true Brit on holiday - I wore sandals, got sunburned, and drank Beer directly after breakfast. I also complained at the sausages and the exchange rates. I also took my first hand at driving in a country not Blighty, and on the wrong side of the road.

On the Right I found some interesting changes in the way I drove. Firstly, it seemed a little too natural changing sides, as for the last couple of weeks I have been immersed heavily in the world of Grand Theft Auto and driving (mostly) on the right hand side of the road.

Also, the mentality is different - shouting at drivers is great fun and in the heat it makes for rather sporting actions. When you overtake it appears that the general thing in Turkey is blast your horn and push the other car over into the side whilst you power ahead wavering between the two lanes, hoping that the other car gets out of the way. This was most productive, and is a habit I might take to the streets of Scotland.

The hardest part of driving abroad turned out to be a round about which, in the other orientation, is quite the tricky prospect. My head was looking the wrong way for cars, my hands were wanting to turn to the right not the left, and my givway-ing was all off kilter.

The funnest part of driving though was the car in which I was driving - a two seater open air buggy. Hazel found it rather terrifying, having her heart in her mouth when I driving my 5 star NCAP Fiat Punto on a deserted street at 30mph found driving at 50kph in the pen air, 3 feet below the car in front quite the adrenaline ride. Graeme and I took to the cars like Robbie Coltrane and a plate of chips, diving along the same roads endlessly, and even taking them off road and uphills that the owner of the cars said specifically not to do.

Graeme's car was faster and more reliable. After 20 minutes my drive chain had came off and with the help from a Turkish Taxi driver and some messy oily hands later, we were up and running again -until in the middle of the town on the main road, in front of the man who owned the Chinese restaurant that we always said we would dine "tomorrow night" the chain slipped again. The man fixed it, and it worked for the rest of the day.

Until just before I was taking the car back and it broke. I didn't tell him about the rather large boulder that dented the under carriage or the 50ft rock scramble that I had just slide down out of control, and he didn't mention the massive oil stains all over my T-shirt.