Baby you can drive my car...

I've had my drivers license since 2003. I've probably not driven more than 30 times since in Sweden. In California, it was absolutely necessary to get a car to maintain social life and sanity.















Candy was a lovely car until her very last breath.

In New Zealand, we've been lucky enough to borrow Daisy from Sam's parents. She is huge and loud and intimidating. But she swallows an infinite amount of food boxes from the supermarket. And we can drive her on the beach.













I loved driving her up in the north. In Wellington, I hate driving. The traffic is madness. There are no bike lanes, pedestrians have to watch every step and sometimes lanes just disappear. One fairly central street is so crooked so that we, depending on the meeting traffic, sometimes have to do a three point turn (use the reverse) to get down it. Almost all central streets are one way streets. And the bus drivers are absolutely mad.

I always try to engage other people if I need to go somewhere with the car. I usually blame the fact that I'm used to drive on the other side of the road. The truth is that Wellington is the scariest place I can imagine driving. Except possibly Bombay or Bangkok.