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You are here: Home Life in Blogs & photos A giant game of 'Chicken'.
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11/05/2007A giant game of 'Chicken'.

In the last article of our week dedicated to cars and roads in Belgium, Cheeseweb has a fear of turning into a Belgian driver.

Two years ago when Andrew and I first moved here, I wrote a blog about why I would not be driving in Belgium. At the time, I thought that once I got used to it here, maybe I would change my mind and, I’m happy to report – I haven’t.

run off the road

My parents inspired that original post by asking why I didn’t drive, if not in Brussels, then at least in my small town. I tried to explain that small towns in Belgium aren’t like small towns in Canada, which are often miles from anywhere and have populations of less than a hundred. My Belgian town is smack dab in the middle of two very large cities with combined populations in the millions. The people from those two cities drive through my town every day on their way to work and back again, and I’m in their way.

Mom and Dad were rudely awaked from their dreams of my quaint, pastoral village when they visited us here last spring. The first morning when they were awakened by the sound of the Grand Prix outside their window, they were shocked.

As we drove them all over Western Europe, they stayed securely ensconced in the back seat of our large, safe Volvo. They were horrified by the tiny Smart cars we passed on the highways at speeds that would land a small town Canadian in jail faster than you can say “license and registration please…”

anyone for chicken?

On a couple of occasions, I kindly offered the front seat to my Dad, who is known to have his own Mario Andretti-like tendencies. He turned a little white and mumbled something about how, as official navigator, I should remain in the front seat – at all times. My Mom’s best defence was couple of anti-nausea pills that induced a day long nap. She enjoyed looking at my photos from the safety of her own home, to see where exactly she went on her European vacation.

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