Because of the vastness of South Africa, the lack of public transportation and the remote areas we are visiting, we have decided to rent a car for our entire stay. Our first destination, Zulu Nyala Safari Ranch located about seven hours away in an area populated with bush camps and exotic game.
It never fails that every time we travel my husband turns into not Super Man but Super Driver. Suddenly, even without any historical data to source, my husband believes that as soon as we venture more than fifty miles from our home, I completely lose my “power” or ability to navigate an automobile. So, it has been deemed that when we travel, he is the “self-designated driver” and me his lowly “co-pilot”. By the way I HATE MAPS! I must confess that I usually go along willingly because it’s always somewhat worth the price of me giving up control. It’s amusing to watch him take charge. First, there’s the complaining about the car, then the drivers, the roads and finally the signs or lack of them.
In truth, anyone one that has ever rented a car and driven in a foreign country knows it can be a tad bit stressful. But nothing prepared me for Roy’s driving in South Africa. First, you have to imagine that everything is on the other side of what we as Americans are use too. You drive on the other side of the road. VERY SCARY! The stirring wheel is on the other side of the car. CRAZY! And the best part…our tiny rental car had a standard transmission, so you shift with your left hand instead of your right. AN ACCIDENT JUST WAITING TO HAPPEN! So, in addition to the usual complaining that I was a totally prepared for, South Africa was for "SD" Roy, driving in a foreign country on steroids.
The best part was that every time Roy “SD” extraordinaire went to flip the turn signal on, or what would be later known as our Mr. Blinky, he would inevitably turn on the windshield wipers. I mean every time …like every few minutes over a ten-hour drive to our safari camp. Each time the windshield wipers engaged beautiful blue water cascaded over the glass, bugs smudged, and Roy could be heard shouting a string of expletives along with an exasperated sigh or two. If that wasn’t bad enough, all this was usually followed by incisive honking from other drivers since Roy in the process also neglected to use a turn signal. It literally took everything I had not to laugh out loud, but I couldn’t resist pointing out each time “Well Mr. Blinky, at least we have a clean windshield”!
Oh, did you happen to notice that the seven-hour trip took ten hours?? Opps! I told you that I hate reading maps!
