My Assault on the British Empire

In the 1980's, I was stationed in Karlsruhe, West Germany. It was an easy drive into France, and my wife of the time and I often dragged the kids over there, usually to see a small town whose main attraction was its pottery.

One day, we realized that it was not that far to drive through France to Calais, and from there to London. I have loved English literature with a passion since high school, and was also a dyed-in-the-wool Sherlock Holmes fan as well.

Having once had the opportunity to attend a presentation by Basil Rathbone had helped cement that link. Someday, I'll comment on that day. It's worth it.

However, back to 1981+/-.

In order to get a longer visit in, we decided to leave on a Friday after I got off work. After all, it was not that far from Karlsruhe to Calais...at least in our minds. Therefore, on Friday evening, we loaded the kids in the little white Opal Kadett and headed out.

The plan was to drive through the night, northwest through the city of Saarbrucken in France and on to Calais. The problem was that I got confused and headed southwest towards Strasbourg instead. The fact that Strasbourg was also in France didn't help much when we finally figured we (I) had been driving the wrong way for several hours.

We picked the fastest route we could find and headed northwest. At first, we made good time on the French version of the Autobahn or our Interstate system. After a while, however, we came to realize that every now and then, the French expected you to pay a toll for using their highways!

We only had a few Francs with us, and these began to rapidly diminish. To make them disappear faster, I had to buy gas at a Shell filling station in the middle of the night. The station was closed, but the owner lived in the building and I was able to awaken him and somehow informed him of my plight, and he sold me some petrol.

I figured out that you could get off the toll road from time to time and drive through small French villages and get back on for long stretches to save money. Going through these villages at night was like going back in time.

We arrived in Calais just barely in time to catch our ferry to Dover.

I had read Caesar's Gallic Commentaries in Latin class in high school, and was historically impressed at the fact that the ferry stopped to turn around in sight of Dover's cliffs. I could believe that I was seeing almost the same sight that Julius Caesar had seen so many centuries before, and from almost the same spot in the English Channel.

The drive on the motorway from Dover to London was relatively uneventful, and I even got used to driving on the left...until we exited into London itself!!!

Every brain cell involved in the left lane vs. right lane problem quit and was not seen again until we were back on the Continent.

We did not know where we were going to stay in London (with three kids), and finances were very limited. After driving around long enough to nearly cause a dozen accidents (sorry...American), I finally parked the car in a garage under Westminster Abbey.

We walked around for a while and saw Big Ben and Trafalgar Square, but we were hungry (I was also exhausted as I had driven all night), and we went into a sandwich shop, possibly on Tothill Street. The proprieter let us know that there was a small tourist hotel run by the Salvation Army a few blocks away which was clean and neat and very reasonable.

The hotel was exactly what we were looking for, and I walked back to Westminster Abbey to claim the car and drive around to the hotel.

Ever driven in London? Forget the left-hand thing. All streets had once been cart tracks or cattle trails, and apparently none of the cows or their drovers had ever been to my hotel. Eventually, I gave up, parked the car back under Westminster Abbey again and carried the 200 lbs of luggage the three-quarters of a mile to the hotel...where I collapsed.

The next morning, after a pretty good English breakfast, included in the price of the room, of course, we gathered our courage about us, walked the mile-and-a-half back to Westminster Abbey, reclaimed the car, and set out to see the city.

After about an hour of driving and with absolutely NO IDEA of where we were on the map...or even how to get back to Westminster Abbey, we asked a London Bobby for assistance.

Really, they out to require that cops speak English in that country!!

We drove on as lost as ever, but eventually ran into a road (and nearly several other drivers) which we recognized. We drove in front of Buckingham Palace and I made a left turn into oncoming traffic...for the fourteenth time.

Once all the shouting and cursing subsided, I carried the car on my back to the parking garage at Westminster Abbey where it stayed until our departure.

We walked along Whitehall to Trafalgar Square and walked over to Buckingham Palace where we were ripped off by a con man, and a lovely gentleman he was. We wandered up Baker Street, past 221B, the fictional home of Sherlock Holmes. We visited Madame Tussauds Wax Museum and a department store near Piccadilly Circus.

Finally, the morning of departure came.

Bravely, I walked the two miles back to Westminster Abbey to fetch the car and pick up the luggage and the family at the hotel. You know, I think I actually saw it, the hotel, down a street as I wandered cursing and muttering to myself up and down streets which never reached MY destination.

Finally, in defeat, I parked the brave little Opal Kadett under Westmister Abbey and walked the three miles to the hotel and carried the 400 lbs of luggage back to the car.

We only got lost two or three times and only had one or two near fatal crashes on the way back to Dover. Being once again in France, where I did not speak the language, I felt at home because I could at least drive on the "right" side of the road without endangering life and limb of all concerned.

The trip back to Karlsruhe was uneventful and I am glad that I went. My first trip to London is still one of the high points of my life and my experiences there inspired me to write a poem.

In London a driver,
Must have endurance,
Insanity in his family,
And lots of insurance.

Donovan Baldwin