Driving in Spain

It’s the Five o’clock Five Hundred and I run it everyday.  I often think of the Alabama song as I navigate traffic in Spain. The geography of cities is compact to say the least, dangerously narrow would be a better description.  A single lane in Arizona would easily pass for a four lane WIDE street in Spain.  Fortunately, the cars are likewise narrow and one soon adjusts to the distance between cars.  The tag on US mirrors, “objects are closer than they appear,” is not necessary here---the objects are inches—rather centimeters from you—always.

Parking is dependent on neither fame nor fortune, rather on timing. Sometimes you win, usually you lose. For the first six months I would not go anywhere that did not have dedicated parking.  I am not opposed, in fact, even now I am grateful to spend $10 USD for a few hours of parking. Due to the congestion and narrow streets, if one needs to unload or drop off anything (even on the very narrowest of streets) one simply employs the invisible button.  I didn't know that US vehicles had one as I had never used it. I believe in the US it is called the hazard light. Here, it makes your car invisible.  When lit, everyone ignores you.  One patiently waits until the driverer returns, or carefully passes the invisible car--preferably on the left—even into oncoming traffic.  They in turn wait for you to return to your lane. No big deal, no rude honking, just narrowly adjusting.  Of course most cars, ours included, sport what I dub “racing stripes”---a mixture of paint in parallel strips either in vehicular colors or in the ubiquitous white-with-tinges-of-red-and-blue from parking garage support pillars.   The ecstasy of finding a parking garage is tempered by the fact one must make a sharp right hand turn after entering the garage—hence the “racing stripes.”  Of course concrete pillars every ten feet are also contributing pin stripers.  Most stalls are slightly less than six feet across. Passengers and packages must be removed before one backs into the parking stall.  Oddly, rear wheel drive cars are easier to maneuver in reverse.  If carefully executed, there is just barely enough room to open the driver’s side door (depending if the pillar is on the right or left) and vertically limbo yourself out the seven inch gap.  That is, unless there is the dreaded mirror alignment.  When the mirrors of both cars align, they effectively stop ANY driver’s side exit.  At that point one simply contorts one’s body (and shoes) into the passenger’s side and repeats the vertical limbo. I have thought about fasting that the driver of the other car would be gone by the time I returned, but I enjoy eating too much. Blessed are the flexible.

There are very few intersections controlled by stop lights—most streets converge in rotundas or roundabouts. Adjusting to the flow of ingress and egress of roundabouts doesn't take much time---developing a keen sense of timing does.  If one hesitates, one is doomed to remain in pre-rotunda purgatory (to an accompanying car horn serenade), but if one is too aggressive, it messes up the flow of traffic and is potentially dangerous to all involved.  Add a few quirks of Spanish traffic----pedestrians have ABSOLUTE right-of-way in a crosswalk, and small motorcycles or scooters are permitted, er, expected to pass you on the left, right or sidewalk---and learning to drive in Spain is a faith promoting experience.

I have reflected on this rite of passage because I have had the opportunity in the past two weeks to teach both young and senior missionaries how to drive in Spain.  The latest group of office elders didn't know how to drive a manual transmission which limits who can drive the van to pick up and drop off missionaries.  For one Elder it was a written pre-mission goal. To all the above considerations we add stopping and starting on hills.  Although the young elders have quicker reflexes, learning to not stall the cars is a challenge.  The older missionaries can handle the clutch, but not the multi-tasking required to drive.  I can handle tailgating traffic, keeping track of pedestrians, adjusting for motos passing on the left and being prepared for vehicles suddenly becoming invisible, but I can’t keep tract of motos on the right.  I fantasize about a mirror that would suddenly punch right passing motos out of the way.  Our mission President told me that he detected a “note” of aggression.  I told him it was more a symphony than a note. In short, it takes two to drive.  Pedestrians pop up like the targets in the state fair arcade shooting galleries and motos will ignore any sense of lane.  To avoid accidents, I have developed strict rules for copilots. If they fail to notify me of a moto passing on the right, they get kissed. My companion doesn't mind, but it stresses MOST elders.  They also get kissed if they do not notify me of pedestrians that I otherwise missed (missed seeing was my intention, but missed running over is more accurate). I have given thanks that I no longer drive white knuckled, except when teaching others how to drive.