My bad car experiences in Sicily when I was 19 were terrifying.
I was just about to start a year abroad, and I was traveling in Europe with friends, and then I went to meet my parents in Taormina (Sicily) before school started. I was arriving a day earlier than my parents. I rented a car at the airport, and a stick shift was much cheaper, so I rented it. I had only driven a stick once, but (having that “I’m invincible” 19 year old attitude), I figured how bad could this be.
It was bad. There are no rules of the road in Southern Italy, everyone drives worse than a New York City cab driver. Plus, narrow Italian medieval streets are tough to drive on. Driving a stick on hills is much tougher than the flat area where I learned to drive a stick. And finally, there are tons of people in Taormina in August. I knew all of these things individually, but for some reason it did not click that these things together were a real problem. (Hey, I was 19)
So, I'm driving fine on the highway, but then a take the turn off for Taoramina, and start going up this major hillside which is a foot hill to Mt Etna (it looks a lot like Big Sur). As I get to town the traffic becomes stop and go on a steep hill. At one point I stop on about a 30-degree angle. There are tons of cars behind me as well as a big stone wall. There was no way that I could get the car started without rolling into someone. Everyone was honking, and I had no idea what to do. So, this nice Italian guy drove the car up the hill for me, but he did not know where the pennesione was, so he dropped me with the car in town.
I started driving around looking for the pennisione. And of course, I ending up on the one way street going back down the hill. This time going back up the hill, I get myself in even more trouble. The brakes start over heating, I can't get the car moving, and everyone is honking and yelling at me. At 19 this is pretty unnerving. Finally, a policeman shows up and drives me to the hotel -- which is way past town on the very top of the mountain.
When my father showed up, I got I lesson on how to drive a stick.
When I left a week later, I was driving to Palermo to meet a friend for a few days. I had this driving a stick thing down. Nothing else could go wrong I thought. My father, being a good dad, warning me to stay on major highways, but there was some tourist site I wanted to see, and so I took a back road.
When I was in the middle of nowhere Sicily, the clutch drops. (By this time my parents had flown to Paris) And, to top things off, it's 100 degrees and I'm wearing too skimpy an outfit for this situation and have to put on heavy clothes in the heat. I hitch hike to a town. And where do I end up, but Corleone. Having seen one to many Godfather movies, I’m totally freaked.
I call the car company, and they just tell me to leave the car and get to Palermo. Great! I thought, how I’m I suppose to do that, it was getting dark, and I can’t even figure out where the bus was. Plus, no one spoke English (and at that time my French is just barely passable).
I was pretty terrified. I sat down at an outside café and just started crying. This nice middle aged man came over and tried to talk to me, but we had no languages in common. The people at the next table spoke some French and they translated for me. I asked if there was a hotel in town, but he said I should come with him and he would get me to Palermo in the morning. I did not want to do this, but he called his wife and she came and they took me to there home, fed me a great meal, put me up for the night, and in the morning their son drove me to Palermo. I’m still amazed at how nice they were.
We have sent each other Christmas cards every year. I saw the couple a few years ago when I went back to Sicily, and their son stayed with me in Washington, DC some time ago, and with my parents in New York.
That was probably my worst travel experience. And most of it happened because I was a bit too young and made really poor choices. There is something to be said for getting older, even though I can do without the gray hair.