I took a mini vacation and went home last weekend. It was my first time back home since May (though I have met my family quite frequently in trips to SC which is much closer). I was really looking forward to spending some time with my parents and being back in the mountains. I was looking forward to going back to small town life, to a slower less rushed way of life. But driving was when I felt like I had to fight the big city girl that has apparently been growing in me.
In Atlanta, people have no patience on the roads – you must drive and react fast. A rule of thumb I learned in crossing streets in Albania applies to driving in Atlanta – If you hesitate, you wait. Well, last weekend, I hesitated when I would pull out onto the road (because I was driving my parents and didn’t want to scare them) and I waited. And waited. And waited. I felt like the cars were approaching in slow motion. It was almost like I had a super power but then I realized they were just going the speed limit.
In Atlanta, you have to speed by 10 or 15mph or you will get run over. Back home, people actually go the speed limit – or slower! And on 2 lane mountain roads where you cannot pass, you will get behind someone going 10 or 15mph under the speed limit who refuses to pull over and let the 50 cars behind them pass. That has always annoyed me but it did even more so on this last trip home! People who don’t know how to drive mountain roads should probably stick to the interstate anyway.
In Atlanta, you must drive through yellow lights and anticipate a green light or you will get honked at. But when I was back home, people actually braked when they saw yellow lights and it was a good few seconds after the light changed to green that they began moving! And I don’t think I heard one car horn the whole 4 days I was home! Amazing!
In Atlanta, people cut you off all the time but no one cares unless you cause an accident. Everyone always changes lanes at the last minute and people manage to squeeze into the smallest of spaces. But usually, people will let you over. If not, you just get over anyway and they will let you in. But back home, no one ever does that so it’s kind of rude to cut someone off. I probably ruffled a few feathers when I almost missed the turning lane and had to cut in front of someone at the last second. But by Atlanta standards, I had plenty of room!
My dad let me drive the whole time I was home because he said I give the car a good workout. My dad said when he and my mom drive, they only use 2 cylinders. But when I drive I use all 4. I tried to drive like a small town girl but it was harder this time than in May. I might be turning into a city girl after all.