Wednesday, September 02, 2009

The Garda

It wouldn't be a real vacation without a run-in with the local police. After fighting rush hour traffic in Dublin I pulled into a loading zone in front of a hotel while the husband ran in to see if we could get a room. We scored a room at the price we had hoped for including free parking and the sodium rich Irish breakfast that is starting to make us gag. As usual, it was raining, and the rear window had gotten foggy, something that hadn't happened in the past 10 days.

Just as I was ready to back up to get out of the spot, I was 100% distracted by about 5 cops walking by. None looked over 20 years old, and after nearly 2 weeks in Ireland they were the first cops we had seen that weren't in a car. I was, stupidly, staring at them in wonder while also in reverse and I bumped the car that had pulled in head first behind me, with its rear sticking into traffic, a position I never did get clarity on.

The bump was no harder than might happen when parallel parking in a tight space, but I did it right in front of 5 cops. They asked if anybody was hurt. They asked to see my license. Then they helped me find the rear defroster and lectured me on using my mirrors and safety. Problem averted.

After driving a couple thousand kilometers and hitting nothing more than scraping the many unavoidable hedges that invade the road, I have about 15 hours to return the car in one piece. This may be a record for me with a rental car.

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