How (not) to drive on the wrong side of the road
On figuring out what that Collision Damage Waiver is actually good for.
Everyone who told me that driving on the left is not that hard was wrong. Then again, to say that I “drove” to Wales would be extremely generous, if you ask the three friends who were in that rental car with me after Thanksgiving.
“So weird that the steering wheel is doing this shaking thing,” I said, on the motorway, when I switched with Izzy, who’d taken the first shift. “Did this happen when you were driving, too?”
“Well, typically, when I drive, I try to stay in the center of the lane,” she said, in such a kind and unpretentious way that I completely missed that she was trying to suggest that I had been doing a horrible job. I know that sounds unbelievable in writing, but I promise you: language in Britain is different from language in the Americas. Also, I was trying to concentrate on not hitting any other cars.
Driving on the left was as hard as I thought it would be, but not for the reasons I expected. I had resisted renting cars to better explore the UK because I envisioned that I would forget that I needed to stay on the left, and that I would drive directly into oncoming traffic. Perhaps two years of cycling in London shook that out of me, as staying on the left wasn’t the problem at all. What I actually needed to do, was keep a little closer to the right.
It took us ages to get onto the motorway when I got behind the wheel for the first time, because I took us in at least three full circles around a roundabout, plus one or two wrong exits. My friends were kind and supportive about this, and no one screamed in fear for their lives. But then I was so afraid of drifting into oncoming traffic, I hugged the curb a little too aggressively. I hit it several times, at speed. Every now and again the road would rumble for long stretches. They should really repair this asphalt, I thought. This is horrible.
“Kassie, you know you’re on the rumble strip, right?” Corey said, after we’d been on it for quite a while.
“Wow, you said that so effectively,” Izzy said. “I’ve been trying to sneak this into the conversation for an hour!”
I am cracking up at my desk writing this, remembering the conversation we had at the time and the way Izzy recounted it, later.
“I was sitting in the back seat, thinking, ‘how can I very politely tell her that she’s all over the place,’ and then she says something about the car telling her that she’s not in the center of the lane, and I’m like, ‘this is it! This is my opportunity!’ So I go, ‘well, the thing about driving is, it’s usually best to be in the center of the lane,’ and it just goes completely over her head. And I didn’t realize that she didn’t know she was driving on the rumble strip, or whatever you call it, I didn’t even know it had a name, but then Corey just comes out and says it: ‘KASSIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DRIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LANE.’ It was amazing. I was so impressed.”
My driving did eventually get better, and to everyone’s delight, we didn’t get into any fender benders or major accidents at all. We spent two days hiking around Eryri National Park (also known as Snowdonia), visited Conwy Castle, and stalked sheep through binoculars from the window seat of the historic farmhouse we rented.
The real accident didn’t happen until the day we returned the car—or the day we meant to, anyway. It was early in the morning, still quite dark outside, and I was going to drop Corey off at the airport at the same time I returned the car. I was doing so well, driving East London roads I often travel by foot, bus, and bike. I slowed to drive through a lane that has been narrowed to prevent speeders or trucks from entering the neighborhood, and then we hit what seemed to be an invisible obstacle. The car came to a violent stop and we lurched forward.
“What was that?!” we both asked, concerned.
As I had become an expert in curb-hitting, I knew this was no ordinary curb. The front left wheel was up on the curb, and the car was stuck on a tilt. We were unable to move forward or back. The source of our entrapment was a mystery, so we tried to get out of the car so we could see how to shimmy out of our predicament, but both of our doors hit invisible walls.
If you have never been the stopper of a bottleneck on a morning commute, whilst also being stuck inside your vehicle, I do not recommend it. People behind us started honking, and the car started to feel small. I tried to stay calm but felt pressure to figure it out, and quickly. In hindsight, one of us should have crawled into the back seat and tried to exit through a back door so we could survey the situation, but at 7:30 a.m., in the dark, with impatient drivers leaning on their horns, that didn’t occur to either of us. So I shimmied the steering wheel some more, and then hit the gas. We moved forward, finally, but then we heard a horrible grinding and grating sound coming from the engine, and then the sound of a tire deflating.
It was not pleasant.
The car wobbled as if it were a table with uneven legs, and we skidded as if we were on ice. When we stopped, we got out of the car to assess the damage. Commuters driving around us made no effort to hide their rubbernecking, wondering what idiot(s) had stoppered the road during rush hour.
Of course, there was no spare tire, because the electric Polestar we rented doesn’t come with one. I called the accident line for a tow, Corey took the train to the airport, and I sat on the curb for an hour and a half as passersby smirked and shook their heads at the car stranded in the middle of the road.
“Is that your car?!” one guy asked me.
“Well… it’s a rental,” I said.
“Oh boy,” he said, and shook his head. “I live just there and I see this happen all the time. It’s too narrow! I’m always saying that, I’m always telling them it’s too narrow. It’s too narrow! I’m sorry this happened to you. It’s too narrow!!”
I could have married him.
As it turned out, I didn’t only puncture a tire. A passing tow truck—not the one who was meant to rescue me—pointed this out when a well-intentioned mansplainer was double-checking my trunk for the spare tire I told him I didn’t have (he was shocked to discover I had not been wrong about this).
“It’s the steering rack,” the tow truck driver shouted, and I rushed to Google this car part I had never heard of. It felt like pulling a muscle I hadn’t realized existed. The steering rack isn’t the axel, but it’s kind of like an axel? This is almost certainly not true at all, but in any case, it’s very important and it’s not the sort of thing you want to break.
“How much new steering rack,” I pleaded Google, bracing myself for bad news. I multiplied the answer (£350) by labour (x2), whatever broken thing had caused the engine to make such horrible sounds (x10) and rental car markup (x50) and envisioned a $10,000 damage bill, then a $20,000 one. Then I wondered whether I might be so unlucky that I’d have to pay for a whole new car ($56,000). I envisioned clearing out my savings, mortgaging my liver, and trying to find a way to turn this misadventure into a Netflix comedy special so I could write off the accident on my tax return.
I had booked the car with my Chase Sapphire card, which has built-in rental car insurance, specifically so that we would be insured for these types of things. But I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that insurance always works the way you expect it to. Just a few weeks earlier, I became stranded overnight at an airport in Madrid. I thought I would be covered for extra meals and a hotel through an annual travel insurance policy I had bought to cover work trips I didn’t book myself, but then I learned it only covers flight delays if you register each leg of the journey more than 24 hours before departure. Not ideal. So, what if “bad at driving on left” or “hit curb too hard” wasn’t a covered cause of damage?
My tow truck arrived, finally, and the driver chuckled as he hooked up the car.
“You broke the steering rack! What did you do?!” he asked, and if he intended for me to feel stupid, he succeeded. He followed with a standard, “they don’t make things like they used to,” grumbled about rubbish electric cars, and then drove the car off into the sunrise.
I called Chase’s claims line right away to let them know about the accident, and they told me I should be covered. A few days later, Hertz sent me a report of pending damages and charged my credit card over $2,000. Before the charge settled on my account, it disappeared as if it had never been there. I filed a claim with Chase, and then I waited.
And then I waited some more.
It took Hertz more than three months to send me a final bill for the damages and tow: $3,059.72. While it was a massive bill, it wasn’t nearly as much as I had expected it might be, so I felt more relief than fear. Regardless of whether I was covered, I would not become the sad new owner of a broken Polestar, nor would I have to sell any body parts to do so. I forwarded the bill to Chase immediately, and then waited some more.
Finally, last week, I got the good news: I was covered, and the insurance company had already sent a payment to Hertz for the full amount.
“Thank you for taking advantage of this valuable benefit,” the email said.
Gladly.
While this story has a happy ending for me, it might not have. We wanted to rent an electric car because there was a free charging station at the cottage we booked, so we thought we could save some money by not having to pay for gas. But the car we originally booked was a Tesla. We only downsized to the Polestar after one of our friends backed out of the trip last-minute. I learned later when reading (and re-reading, and excessively Googling) the terms of my credit card’s Collision Damage Waiver that Teslas are explicitly not covered under this policy—which means I would have been on the hook for 100% of the bill.
Consider this your annual reminder to familiarize yourself with the insurance you have, and to make sure it actually covers the things you think it covers before you rely on it. To give you a head start, here are some things to know about your credit card’s built-in rental car insurance, if you’ve been lucky enough to never need to use it.
What to know about Collision Damage Waiver (CDW) insurance from your credit card
Like any kind of insurance, this one has a lot of terms and conditions. Always call your credit card company to clarify insurance benefits before you travel.
This insurance covers ONLY damage to the car. If you get into an accident with another car, or if you hit a building and damage it, or if you or someone in your vehicle are injured, none of those expenses will be covered. This is especially important to understand if you’re traveling internationally and you don’t have car insurance that covers you abroad, or if you don’t own a car and you don’t have car insurance at all.
You must deny the collision damage insurance offered by the car rental company. If you don’t, your credit card won’t cover you.
You must pay for the reservation with the card that offers the insurance. Good luck asking AmEx to pay for something you booked with a Visa. It’s not gonna happen.
Don’t assume your card has this insurance. Built-in travel and rental car insurance is a massive benefit for the credit cards that offer it, but it’s not a given that your card has it. Always investigate what your coverage is before you plan to rely on it.
You won’t be covered if you break rental rules or laws—i.e. you won’t be covered if someone who’s not a named driver was behind the wheel, or if you drive the car somewhere it’s not allowed to go (such as unpaved roads), or if you were driving under the influence.
Some kinds of cars may not be covered. Teslas are explicitly excluded by my card’s insurance policy. Also excluded are exotic, antique, and high value luxury vehicles including Porsche, Aston Martin, Alfa Romeo, Bentley, and a number of other brands. Read your policy in full if you plan to rely on it—you never know when a curb could hit you.
If you’re in the market for a card that offers this protection, the one I have is the Chase Sapphire Reserve. I’ve had it for a few years now and highly recommend it—this incident has more than made up for the hefty annual fees. (Heads up: I might get some referral points if you sign up through that link.)
A few quick notes on what I’m working on
Shoes. Shoes. Oh my god, shoes.
I’m kicking off a fortnightly (!) column for Adventure.com about travel gear and trends, and I’m currently on the hunt for a do-it-all travel shoe that is as comfortable exploring a museum or dining in a Michelin-star restaurant as it is on a mild hiking trail. I’d love to hear about your favorite travel shoes in the comments, or shoes you’ve been curious about and want someone else to test-drive (test-walk?) before you buy them. (If you happen to work for a shoe company, please send pitches to kassondra@adventure.com rather than replying here.)
More adventure mishaps coming your way
This newsletter has always been one of my favorite writing projects, and I’m working hard this year to bring it to you more frequently. If it made you laugh or double-check your insurance policy, it would mean so much to me if you recommend it to your friends.
Thanks, as always, for reading, and happy adventuring!
Shoes: I travel easily 50K a year, and the first thing that gets packed, every time, are my black suede M. Gemi Felize driving loafers. They're slipper-comfy, durable enough for long days of urban walking, flexible enough to handle swelling feet, and elegant enough to wear out to dinner anywhere without apologies. Their simple lines look equally great with shorts, skirts, jeans, trousers, and dresses.
As a soft moccasin shoe, they don't offer much in the way of cushy sole or heavy-duty arch support. I'm a barefoot-shoe girl, so I consider this a plus, but others may not. But the soles are sturdy enough to be protective, and have driving-shoe rubber nubs that offer excellent traction.
Second choice in the summer months is the Birkenstock Madrid sandal, which is easily the prettiest Birk ever made. For an even lighter sandal, check out the black Croc Sexxy Flip, which is my go-to when I've worn my feet down to blisters and need a shoe that isn't going to aggravate travel-induced issues any further. (Also: easily the prettiest Croc ever made.) It weighs nothing, and can tuck down into a sliver for packing.
For winter, the second pair will be black Chelsea boots. Ariat makes particularly comfortable ones.
Hmmm, Cassondra. Not ideal, that.
You must have been giving it some welly to break the steering rack. Respect! That said, I'm convinced that more accidents happen when driving home than when actually out on the hill. Though rental car ones mostly damage the billfold/pocketbook or whatever you people keep your bank cards in.