It’s like a shoe-box on wheels powered by a sewing machine.
The boot [or trunk for those that speak Yankese or Canadiangeese] has enough room for a boot but not a trunk.
It’s very economical on petrol [or gas] though, which is good.
Driving over here does produce gas however. Having learnt to drive in the 60’s, when drunk driving was in vogue, I can cope with the locals and their inebriated meanderings. It is the grey haired and balding estrangeiros that put the wind up me, especially the English. They can’t quite believe that driving on the right is the right thing to do so consequently tend to hover in the middle of the road. I won’t mention the indecision that happens at roundabouts [special relationship visitors might have to Google that, as I believe roundabouts are as rare as hen’s teeth, in the new world].
Spookily, I have got so used to driving on the right, I have difficulties when I return to the UK; I have been known to try and drive on the wrong side of the road there. It’s OK, don’t worry, I always pretend to be German.
