MOPEDS AND DONKEYS AND SHEEP... OH MY

I’ll be the first to admit that it has been far too long since I have written in this blog. One of the 4 faithful followers told me that I had started to become very predictable in my writing style. They observed that I would always start with a story of my childhood and then somehow try and relate that to my adventures here. Well…after an amazing trip back to the United States of America, I decided to recommit myself to writing more often, and to try and be less predictable. Instead of opening with my normal childhood story, I decided to share a story of my dad when he was younger.

It was nearly 25 years ago. My dad was teaching early morning seminary. Class started at 6:00, so he would have to leave the house around 5:30 in order to get there in time to set things up (earlier if he was buying donuts for all of his students). One can only imagine that the streets of Albuquerque were not extremely busy at that time of day, and so he decided to teach his favorite son, who was nearing his 15th birthday, how to drive. I’m certain he will never forget what an amazing driver his son was. He was a natural with not only a great personality and handsome good looks, but also a keen awareness of everything around him. He was destined to become a great driver and potentially save the world as he knew it. However…his near-perfect son did have one small chink in his armor…he had a hard time sticking to just one lane. The truck my dad was teaching him to drive was HUGE and so he couldn’t quite get a handle on visualizing how to stick to the center of his lane. As a result, he often drove right down the middle of the two. I’m sure my dad has fond memories of helping him to correct that small problem. If only my dad was available to give some lessons to the people here in Morocco. (I have to admit that it was nice to tell a story about my dad instead of about me…it felt refreshing).

I have driven in some crazy places throughout the world. Chilean driving taught me that the best defense is a good offense. I also learned that it is never impossible to squeeze one more lane out of a two lane road. My short time in Brazil taught me more of the same while adding a lesson on drive-by shootings (no joke…saw my first one 10 minutes after checking into my hotel). The driving lessons I learned in Indonesia mainly involved mopeds and the amount of things you can carry on it if you simply use your imagination…how do you get a spare car tire home while driving a moped you ask? That my friends is easy…wear it around your waist (why do you think they have a hole in it anyway). In spite of the global lessons I had gathered, I felt like they were all in preparation for my PHD on driving here in Morocco. I feel as though I could write volumes about my experiences here. For the sake of time, I’ll briefly share just a few of the lessons/frustrations I deal with on a daily basis here.

Those of you living inside the glorious United States of America have been spoiled without really even knowing it. You have lived the secluded life of 4 lane interstate roads that span across the entire country. You have lived with only 3 options on a stop light: red, yellow and green (even though I have on more than one occasion told my kids that the light was “orange”). Perhaps most importantly, you have traveled to and from work without fear of pulverizing countless sheep along the way. Yes, you have been spoiled…as I once was.

But mine eyes have been opened. They see with a new purpose when I am behind the wheel. Driving in Morocco has quite simply changed me in ways from which I may never be able to recover. I am quite certain that I won’t be able to fully capture with words just how greatly these experiences have affected me. I begin with the insane. To fully illustrate this point, I will share a story (sorry…this one is not about my dad). When Jen and I were new parents living in Texas, we owned two cars, a Ford Mustang and a Ford Contour. Neither of those cars has a great capacity for hauling things. One day we decided to do a project around the house that required buying some long 2 x 4’s. I remember going to Home Depot and buying those boards and then being faced with the dilemma of how to bring those home. My idea was to simply hold them to the roof of the car and drive slowly. However, in the end Jen’s reason won out and we waited for some help hauling them with a truck. I digress…the people here do not have a “Jen” to help them reason. Nope…they simply act upon the first idea that pops into their head. Of all of those ideas, the most popular is to simply stack it as high as you possibly can and pray that gravity is taking a nap that day. The very first day I arrived to Marrakech, I had the great opportunity to get stuck behind a guy that was hauling hay. I was so impressed that I had to take a picture (yes, I did it while I was driving…totally eliminating my credibility about unsafe drivers, but so worth it to capture it for the official record). If I had a nickel for every car I have passed that determined to maximize their moving capacity via bungee cords and tarps, I would not need to ask you to pay me for these blogs (seriously…still waiting on the money). Murphy has been fairly good to me so far, and I have not had one of those trucks tip over and crush me…but clearly the odds are stacked against me.

One of the biggest challenges with driving in Morocco is that there are so many different kinds of “things” on the road. From my ever powerful 1.2L Peugeot 206+ (that surprisingly is able to reach 100 MPH), to the mopeds that don’t have working lights and thus sneak up on you just as you are about to hit them, to the greatly popular donkey carts, there are a ton of different rides on the road. Consequently, you can never really be sure what will be lurking around the next turn. All too often I have sped around a blind turn to find the luck of the draw dealt me the donkey cart. I have found that I am much less impressed with how fast a car can go from 0 to 60, but rather how fast it can slow down from 100 to 10! As a guy that flies jets for a living, I generally do not care to drive fast on the ground. However, I have a 45 minute drive to work each day, and the only thing keeping me from getting to the golf course after work are those dreaded 45 minutes. Throw in my type “A” personality and it gives me a good reason to try and make a new record every time I return home each day. In spite of the dangers that exist while driving here, the most frustrating part of driving here has nothing to do with speed.

I like to think that I am a guy that is somewhat decisive. I only dated Jen for 2 months before we were engaged. Once I tricked her into thinking I was going to be a doctor, we were married 6 months later. Once I was certain that she was in for the long haul, I decided to join the Air Force and never looked back. Bottom line…I like to make a decision and then go after it with all my heart. How does that apply to driving in Morocco?! It really doesn’t, I just wanted to pat myself on the back for tricking Jen into marrying me. Actually…it really does apply. In the most simple of forms, one of the easier things associated with driving is deciding which lane to drive in. There are those that will only drive in the fast lane, and those that feel more secure in the slow lane. Which is better? I guess they both have their value, and I am not one to judge. I don’t even mind those that change it up and go back and forth…more power to them! However, there is another category that drives me insane. 97.69% of Moroccan drivers have yet to decide which lane they prefer. As a result, they drive right down the middle of both lanes (my Dad could go to town with giving some lessons down here)! I will not lie; there is a small chance that I have wanted to share some choice English words with the people of Morocco. Instead, I generally settle for saying things like “RETARD!! PLEASE CHOOSE A LANE!” I am not proud of my actions, but the drivers here will literally drive me crazy before this year is over.

Before I close (I am sure I’ve lost most of you by now), I thought I would end on a positive note. Not everything about driving here is bad. What you ask could possibly compensate for the dial-a-death driving that I do each day? The answer my friends is simple…it is called a Diplomatic Passport. In short, the black passport acts like a Monopoly Get Out of Jail Free Card. All I will say is that the 1.2L Peugeot 206+ may only go 100 MPH, but that is still about 30 MPH faster than I should legally go. I’m fairly certain that somewhere there is a Moroccan writing a blog about the retarded American that passes them like a madman as he ditches a sheep, a donkey cart, and a moped. In my defense...I do all of that while staying in one lane!

PS- If you are my wife or mother…none of this is true! I drive 30 MPH to and from work each day with my hands at 10 and 2.