The highs and lows of driving in Florida

Let’s face it, driving a car is a bit like parenting, most people like to think of themselves as pretty good at it, with all the problems in the world being caused by the other people. 

I am not “most people”, however, and must confess that I have never been a great car driver.  (Come to think of it, my parenting skills aren’t perfect either, but that’s another story!). 

Being a non-driver is not good in the US, (unless you are in one of the big northern cities), as the country has largely been built around car travel.  Public transport, such as rail and buses, is minimal and it’s almost impossible to get around without driving.

My driving history

The reasons for my poor driving are historical, to a large degree.  After I passed my test in the UK, aged 18, I hardly drove a car – I had a motorbike for a few years, then had no vehicle at all (living in a big city, there were always plenty of buses and trains to choose from, if I wanted to go somewhere). 

I don’t feel too bad being out on the highway, driving around, but I am non-to-confident with reversing and parking in an enclosed space, you just don’t have those issues with a motorbike generally.

I also found it easier to stay alert on my motorbike, where you are under no doubt how precarious your situation is - if you make one slip, then you can be dead or severely injured.  In the car, seemingly safe in my warm little metal box, I sometimes let my mind wander.

Pulled over by a cop

One time in Florida, a few months back, I approached a junction too fast.  The lights went red at the last moment and then it was too late to stop, so I went through.  There was a police car behind me.  I felt sick in my stomach.  It was such a stupid mistake.

The cop pulled me over further down the road (“What choice did he have?” he later explained).  Ironically, he turned out to be one of the nicest policemen I’ve ever met.  He could have fined me heavily and delayed me getting my Florida license (I was driving on my British one), but instead he issued me with just a warning and a friendly smile.  (Admittedly, my English accent and fawning, penitent manner may also have helped).

Crossing the bridge from Tampa to St Petersburg

Driving in Florida

My British license covered me legally for driving in Florida for a time, but I had to get a Florida one at some point.  The other problem is that the insurance costs are extortionate, if you drive on a foreign license. 

Taking the driving test

Things went well to start with.  College educated and a fan of learning generally, the written part of the test was a sail through for me.  I swatted up on the rules, regulations, road signs, procedures, and scored close to full marks.  The only question I remember was not knowing was how long the minimum legal tow bar length was.  (It seemed like a very obscure question to me, but I guess there are a lot of people towing caravans, boats, etc. in Florida!)

Next was my road test.  I really didn’t know what to expect.  The British driving test is notoriously difficult – the driving part takes place out on the highway and safety considerations are paramount.  The Florida version is on a dinky little off-road mock-up and it is generally more concerned with skill at maneuvering the car – easier for many people, but not so much me.    

The first test I took was not good.  My examiner was a grumpy bugger, which is normal by British standards, but more unusual in the US.  His spikiness didn’t do much to help my nerves.  But in the end, it was my maneuvering and reversing skills that undid me.  I have failed a driving test before, when I was eighteen, but failing at forty-seven feels a lot more embarrassing!

Anyway, I practiced my reversing and parking for a few weeks and made another attempt.  I didn’t relish meeting my grumpy examiner friend again, but was overjoyed to find that I’d been allotted a rather affable chap this time.  I passed with a virtually perfect score and the wonders of modern laser printing meant that I was given my license ID card straightaway.

British and American differences part 4: Driving in Florida

Everybody knows that Brits drive on the left hand side of the road and everybody else drives on the right.  Let’s get that one out of the way before we even start.  Having said that, not a lot of Americans know that there are many major countries where they also drive on the left, places like, urm, Nepal, Trinidad and Tobago.  Okay, I admit it, driving on the left is just plain strange.  But regardless, I intend to continue my theme of British and American differences with a blog post about driving in the Land of the Free (aka the USA), specifically, driving in Florida.

Disappointingly, apart from some old people, certain black people, and a few weirdos, nobody drives those enormous American cars that the world became familiar with in tv programmes such as “Starsky and Hutch”, “The Dukes of Hazzard” and “Dallas”, which, if you were a Briton born in the mid sixties like myself, were your main source of information about American culture.  Americans generally drive pretty similar cars to the Europeans nowadays (many Japanese models especially), which is kind of a let down.  I suspect that one reason is because the American car industry rivaled the British one in terms of producing poor quality vehicles, so most of their cars were in reality more crap than classic, and they fell apart years ago.  Plus those American cars needed 10 gallons of fuel just to get started and travel to the end of the driveway, which isn’t much use in the modern world. 

Despite all the similarities however, there are a several areas where there are British and American differences, certainly here in Florida.  For one thing, Americans are particularly fond of their trucks.  Especially their pick ups.  Big open backed things.  I am not convinced that all their owners need them for work purposes, they seem to be as much an expression of manhood and lifestyle, but you will see many of them on the roads.

Americans are fond of their bumper stickers too, which indicate everything from religious and political affiliations, to places where the car owner likes to eat, their favourite sports teams, and sometimes just jokes or plain silliness.   

To be a true Floridian, however, you need to forget four wheels altogether and buy a motorcycle, preferably a Harley with chopper handlebars and a dropped seat.  As you’re not legally obliged to wear a helmet down here, you might as well just dispense with long trousers too, and a jacket – heck, I saw a guy riding a motorcycle the other day who wasn’t even wearing shoes!  He was barefoot, in his shorts and cut-off t-shirt, cruising beside us on two wheels, indifferent to all the skin and brains that he might lose should he be unlucky enough to be parted from his machine while in motion. 

I am still waiting for my first sighting of a start naked motorcycle rider, it is probably only a matter of time… 

(ps If you like this British expat in the USA blog and you are a facebooker, please consider going to its new facebook page and clicking the ‘like button’.  Ta.)