Driving the Irish Countryside

I enjoy driving. When I was little, I used to be the shotgun rider at night when we did cross country marathon drives, and it was easy to pretend I was the one maneuvering through the dark. Fast forward a bit to current time, and now I usually don't even give anyone the option of being driver when there is any sort of carpool going on. So it's not unexpected that on the roads of Ireland, I was the one behind the wheel.

There are great things about driving in Ireland. The views are outstanding pretty much everywhere and other drivers are pretty friendly and courteous. However...

Ok, picture a typical road in America. A nice two laner, broad shoulders, clear road markings, usually pretty straight with good visibility, usually safe enough that even if you choose to go over the posted speed limit, even by a good 20 mph, you're not going to hurt anyone.

Let me paint you a picture. Take that road's width and halve it. Now paint a line down the center that may or may not always be visible. That shoulder? Downsize it to about 5 inches on both sides and add a 2-3 foot thick jagged stone wall on one side and a 7 foot tall hedge with branches reaching toward you. Add sharp turns every 500 meters or so, and make the speed limit 60 mph. For fun, let's have intermittent openings in the barriers that allow the occasional sheep or cow to stroll down the road. Stir in a couple of pedestrians and bike riders. Oh, and let's not forget random unmarked forks in the road every km or so. And you're driving completely opposite to what you've done for the last 11 years. Holy shit.

The good thing about this time of year is that there aren't that many tourists getting lost with you, but there is plenty enough traffic that you never know when someone might come barreling around a blind curve. I haven't prayed so much in years. Thank God for Amy being in the passenger seat, as she called out warnings on the multiple occasions that I nearly snapped a mirror off on a wall or ran a wheel into a ditch. Mostly helpful as well was our GPS device, although on occasion I'm pretty sure the people at Garmin were completely screwing with our minds by directing us through mile upon mile of picturesque but suicidally narrow gravel roads, only to find out upon looking at a physical map that there was a perfectly good highway a mile away. And that damn Garmin lady would harangue me every fucking time I took them, too, insisting I was actually driving through an unpaved cow pasture. Lady, you're wrong! Admit it!