DRIVING AROUND THE WORLD
Living in Los Angeles, driving is a necessity rather than a choice. Even for something as simple as grabbing a cup of coffee, I have to get in my car. Unless you’re among the small minority of Angelenos who live in an apartment or condominium on a busy street, driving is unavoidable. This dependency on cars led me to drive in multiple countries—a decision that, in hindsight, wasn’t always the smartest.
Los Angeles
Germany: The autobahn is famous for its high-speed driving, and experiencing it firsthand was exhilarating. However, what I didn’t anticipate was the challenge of driving once I got off the autobahn. In Bavaria, I found myself navigating narrow, winding mountain roads near the iconic Neuschwanstein Castle, all while battling torrential rain. The scenic Black Forest provided a similarly nerve-wracking experience. I gripped the steering wheel of my German rental car so tightly, as if that alone would prevent us from tumbling off the mountainside. My fear was compounded by my young son, who burst into tears in the backseat, terrified by the lightning, thunder, gusting winds, and relentless rain—elements he had never encountered at home. This was before GPS, so my poor wife pored over maps, trying to guide me as we wound our way through the Alps toward Munich. We eventually made it, but it felt like a close call.
Neuschwanstein Castle, Bavaria, Germany
England: The moment I drove out of the rental agency’s parking lot near Heathrow, I realized my mistake. Adjusting to driving on the left side of the road was harder than I expected, and before I knew it, I had clipped the side mirror of a parked car on a narrow street. Panicked, I stopped and searched for the mirror I had knocked off, but it had vanished. My own side mirror dangled precariously as we continued on, rattling with every bump. I left a note on the windshield of the damaged car and drove off, much to my son’s horror—he was convinced I was going to jail.
Hours later, we arrived at Stonehenge, where an even bigger misfortune struck. A tour bus full of European tourists swiped the side of my rental car as it entered the parking lot. The driver leapt out, shouting a string of colorful expletives in an accent I couldn’t place, his fists waving in frustration. Just as I braced myself for a confrontation, a calm English parking attendant intervened. She had witnessed the entire incident and assured me she was willing to testify on my behalf. I documented everything—taking pictures of the bus, noting the license plate, and jotting down the company’s name. That night from our hotel room in Bath, I contacted both the rental company and my insurance provider. They assured me not to worry as long as the car was still drivable. Unfortunately, when I returned home, I discovered that I had to cover the repair costs myself. The bus belonged to an Eastern European company with no insurance coverage in the UK, and my policy refused to pay out.
Stonehenge, England
South Africa: Renting a car in Cape Town seemed like a great idea, and for the most part, it was. We spent three wonderful days driving along the scenic coastline, heading down to the Cape of Good Hope, and exploring Stellenbosch and Franschhoek’s wine country. However, on our way back one evening, things took a turn for the worse. As darkness fell, I missed the freeway ramp and unknowingly drove into a township. The stark contrast between this area and the beautiful center of Cape Town was striking. The power was out, and groups of young men loitered on the narrow streets lined with makeshift tin shacks. A deep sense of unease settled over me. For a few tense minutes, I feared the worst. Thankfully, a kind older gentleman gave us directions, and we quickly found our way back to the freeway. It was a brief yet terrifying moment that I won’t soon forget.
Cape Town, South Africa
India: Determined to experience India’s improved road infrastructure firsthand, I decided to drive from Kolkata to Varanasi—a journey of approximately 420 miles. We hired a professional driver, but after 150 miles on a smooth, well-paved highway, I felt confident enough to take the wheel myself. That confidence evaporated just ten minutes later when we crossed into the neighboring state.
The highway suddenly shrank into a single-lane dirt road, packed with people shopping at open-air market stalls on both sides. Traffic slowed to a crawl behind rickshaws, pushcarts, and tuk-tuks. With no place to pull over, I had no choice but to inch forward. Suddenly, a bus barreled toward me from the opposite direction. It seemed to be heading straight for us. I swerved hard to the left, but it wasn’t enough—I was sideswiped. Worse still, I clipped a street vendor’s cart, sending his fruits tumbling onto the dusty road. The bus didn’t stop, disappearing into the chaos behind. I had no choice but to compensate the fruit seller for his losses, learning the hard way that driving in India was best left to the professionals.
Busy street, India
Santorini, Greece: My mistake became clear as soon as I began ascending the steep roads toward Profitis Elias, the highest point on the island. The car’s tiny engine struggled against the hairpin turns and relentless switchbacks, but there was no turning back. The road was too narrow to turn around, so I had no choice but to keep going. That we made it back in one piece is something I will forever be grateful for.
Santorini, Greece
China: I refrained from driving but encountered a different kind of challenge in Kunming, Yunnan. Unlike Shanghai, where English signs and speakers were common, Kunming was a different world. The only English-speaking receptionist at my hotel was off duty, and translation apps were yet to be invented. I desperately wanted to visit the famous Panlong Buddhist Temple, but it was in the hills outside the city, and taxis refused to take me. I resorted to showing a picture of the temple from my guidebook to a hotel staff member, who wrote down the name in Chinese characters. Armed with this piece of paper, I stood on the busy street outside the hotel, showing it to every taxi driver who stopped. One by one, they shook their heads and drove off.
A young man with a small electric scooter watched my predicament with curiosity. Eventually, he approached, examined the paper, and gestured that he could take me if I rode on the back of his scooter. With no other option, I agreed, much to the disapproving glare of the hotel security guard. We started on a major thoroughfare but soon veered into an unfamiliar, narrow alley. The high-rises disappeared, replaced by crumbling buildings, open drains, and stray animals. My heart pounded as he pulled up beside a group of young men drinking and gambling—at ten in the morning. When he motioned for me to follow him into a metal-doored shack, I was certain my life was about to end.
Inside the dimly lit room, I noticed a single cot with its legs propped up on bricks. My supposed kidnapper knelt down, pulled a battery from underneath, and replaced the depleted one on his scooter. That’s when I realized he had only taken a detour home to retrieve a fully charged battery. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of an ordeal. Shortly after we resumed our journey, the scooter sputtered and stalled. Unable to restart it, he motioned for me to walk. Under the blazing September sun, we trudged three miles uphill until we finally reached the temple—only to find it closed. After a few minutes of peering through the gates and snapping photos, we made our way back. Thankfully, gravity was on our side, and the scooter worked perfectly going downhill, allowing me to catch my flight out that evening.
Scooters, Asia
Conclusion: Driving around the world has given me some unforgettable moments, but it has also taught me valuable lessons about the unpredictability of foreign roads. While some trips ended in costly repairs and others in heart-stopping moments, each one left me with an unforgettable story to tell. From high-speed thrills to near disasters, each experience reinforced just how much driving norms differ across countries. If nothing else, these misadventures have made me appreciate the comforts of my familiar Los Angeles commute—traffic jams and all.
