baby you can drive my car

Seeing how the Costa Brava is basically a string of small coastal towns, with Benidorm being one of the larger hubs, I thought it would be fun to rent a car in Alicante and drive around a bit, then knock out the 4 hours to Granada and get back into the whole train thing. And I knew going into it that I’d be driving a manual, seeing how there are NO affordable automatics in all of Europe, and though it had been about 5 years since I was last behind a stick, I practiced a good ten minutes before leaving (thanks, Mike).

And I assumed that it would be rough at first, but that I’d get the hang of it. And I assumed that a few people would stare as I peeled out and/or stalled. Fine. But these assumptions were also based on my impression that Benidorm and the surrounding coast was relatively flat: an assumption that turned out to be very wrong.

I soon discovered that Benidorm, and – in fact – many of the smaller coastal towns, are a good 75% of the “hills-leading-down-to-beach” variety. Sort of a milder San Francisco combined with the cramped, narrow streets of Taiwan. Terrain on which, I also soon discovered, is not good for someone with ten minutes of refresher after a five-year hiatus from driving a manual transmission (once) to get back into the swing of things. Hills are evil.

AND, as I mentioned previously, the population of said towns were a good 90 odd percent elderly – so not only was I trying to drive up hills, but I was also trying to drive up hills without breaking into an old lady with a tennis-ball walker. How could I, in good conscience, go into geriatrics after that?

But you know, I did ok. Yes there was this one insane hill (seriously, a right angle incline – I should know better than to drive up walls). Yes, I stalled (twice). Yes, it was a busy street (and fast). Yes, cars backed up (but they were nice). Yes, I burned a LOT of rubber going up (and scared a few of the elderly). But we made it to the top. And we made it around the coast. And we made it to Granada, all in one piece.

Nothing quite like a trial by fire. But it was kind of fun. And honestly, the hardest part was not the driving but the navigating in a foreign city. But there was no honking, and no gesturing. The Spanish, I think, are too laid back for all that.

There she is. Sexy, no? A two-door Citroën C2, with a 0-60 in about seven minutes under my foot. Kind of fun to drive I guess.

Would have preferred a smart car, though.