That Time I Accidentally Stole a Car in Japan
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: We’re in Bangkok, where I have deepest gratitude and thankfulness for public transit.
That Time I Accidentally Stole a Car in Japan
Because I had an agenda of things I wanted to see in Okinawa, we rented a car so we could get around the island easily.
But because it was my agenda, Lee declined to do the driving.
Okay, fine. I’ll drive. It can’t be too hard—the taxi drivers in Japan wear white gloves. I am not exaggerating when I say traffic is orderly on an unimaginable level.
I think by the time we returned the car, we were both questioning that decision.
Since I was doing the driving, the car rental company had taken my phone number and contact information. Seems reasonable. On our second-to-last day, as we were finishing lunch and heading to the car to run an errand, I saw a message pop up on my phone. I ignored it, assuming it was spam.
It was a local holiday, so traffic was terrible. We sat and sat. Eventually, my phone rang. I hit the red button—my phone was needed for navigating. Besides, I didn’t recognize the number.
The second time it rang, I mentioned to Lee that I was getting a lot of spam calls with the new SIM card he’d installed. He thought that was odd.
The third time it rang, he looked at it and pointed out that it was a Japanese number, therefore couldn’t possibly be spam. I shrugged, certain he was wrong. Of course it was spam.
He was less certain, and insisted on checking the message I had ignored.
It was the car rental agency, wanting to know why we hadn’t brought the car back yet—our rental had ended two hours ago.
Oops.
Lee dealt with apologizing to the agency and extending our booking while I managed the traffic and the parking. Then he spent the next hour following me around a sporting goods store, throwing his hands in the air occasionally. Spam! She thinks it’s just spam!
In my defense, it totally could’ve been spam. I’m just glad they didn’t send out the police to search for the car we had clearly absconded with.
Anyway. We paid for an extra day, and I was nearly done with this driving adventure—just one more journey, back to the airport.
That was when the actual biggest oopsie happened.
Japan drives on the left, like the UK. I’ve done that before (only once, in rural South Africa), so I’d been managing fairly well.
It turns out my strongest muscle memory is right-hand turns at a green light. In the US we can do that without even thinking about it, because the right hand turn has right-of-way.
Um, in Japan the right-hand turn definitely doesn’t have right-of-way.
I went to make a right-hand turn, following the car in front of me, and got into the intersection … and realized I had pulled out in front of three lanes of oncoming traffic. By the time I processed how stuck I was, another car had pulled up right behind me and the driver of the truck that was face-to-face with our front bumper was gesturing angrily at me.
Angry gestures don’t happen much in Japan. It was a BIG oopsie. I had seriously snarled a lot of traffic. After a flash of panic, I figured out (with Lee’s help) how to maneuver back the way I had been going, the gps rerouted us, and I only had to make like five more right-hand turns across traffic.
I was shook, let me tell you. Near-death experiences don’t suit me at all.
And no, the police didn’t show up to escort me to jail for my appalling driving.
I didn’t spend the rest of the drive whimpering. I really wanted to, but I was busy white-knuckling the steering wheel, especially when I had to make a U-turn to get to a gas station.
All’s well that ends well, though. We got the car turned in, unscathed. I’ve never been so relieved to hand over a key.
I am perfectly happy to be riding the BTS in Bangkok today. Ignore the spam, y’all!
Take care,
Lisa
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