Fill 'Er Up, Suckas!

So I am working on  a long post about our adventures in Portugal, but in the meantime, I've also been catching up on the news. 

Of course, fuel prices are continuing to break records. And we've been hearing a lot about US prices.

I tend not to pay so much attention to the gas gauge when driving here in Stavanger.  My focus is more about staying in gear, so since the motoring began there have been several times when I have been dangerously close to the red zone, which in out car means "No More Fuel, Sucka."

Plus Car uses diesel and I have an overwhelming fear that I will totally space from the stress of it all and fill it up at the wrong nozzle.

Husband is much better about those things than I am so he keeps an eye on it. 

We don't drive so much, so a tank lasts us a pretty long time.  And really the high prices here don't really freak me out so much any more.  I've stopped converting as much and have gotten used to the two hard facts:

1) It's just the cost of living here, so get used to it. 

2) There are just some things that should be purchased in pretty much any other country.

But Saturday, when we filled up, I audibly gasped and immediately started running the math in my head. 

This is what the screen looked like to fill up our 2008 Saab 93 Diesel. 

(Or almost fill up...I suspect that it's a 50 liter tank, mainly because it's a nicer round number, not because I know anything about cars or care so much to find the actual specifications.)

And I am happy to help with the math.* 

49 liters  = 12.9 gallons

12.93NOK = $2.55 US

633.57 NOK = $124.99 US

Which means that we are paying $9.68 per gallon of diesel.

And gas is pretty much at the same.

And while I am well aware that we live in the most expensive country in the world, I am having a hard time grasping the enormity of the price of fuel.

Is it a "sin tax" to discourage driving?  

Or is it the general cost of living which comes from the fact that we live so far north and the cost to import is factored in as well as the massively high taxes.  

Then there is the ecological awareness which leads to the fossil fuel taxes, I suspect. 

But I am looking all over for information and other than finding out we are the second most expensive place in the world to buy gas, I can't come up with a concrete reason on why we pay so dang much. 

Mainly what I am having a hard time understanding is --- If we are living in a country where oil and petroleum is the biggest business, why isn't there some kind of trickle down cost benefit?  

*All of which are rounded off to the nearest 100th. The monetary factors are calculated using today's exchange rate.)

Go Car Go

This is Car.



This is my letter to Car.*

++++++++++++++++++
Dear Car,

I hate you.

Kisses,
Elizabeth
++++++++++++++++++


Car is part of Husband's contract. We pay a small fee every month and his company takes care of Car, including insurance, tolls, etc... It's a pretty sweet deal, really.

And before we got here, we talked about the fact that the vast majority of cars in Norway are stick shift. There are all sorts of expenses and tariffs that go along with having a car, especially an automatic, so our choices would be limited to manual transmissions.

I had been worried about it for months for two reasons:

1) I am a rotten driver. I lived in New York City for ten years and would drive once or twice a year. Maybe. Then drove Gertie, the Green Jeep (1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee) for the two years I lived in Atlanta. Gertie got me places and I felt safe. As far as I am concerned, cars are merely to get from Point A to Point B. I'd like a car that goes, please. If it has A/C and a way to hear music, even better. That's about it.

2) Also, it is a well-documented fact that my coordination is so poor that I can barely walk upright. Seriously, I trip. I walk into doors. I fall down. I cannot touch my nose with my finger. And forget about patting my head and rubbing my stomach at the same time.

I'm okay with this.

And I was okay with accepting what I thought was our one option.

So Husband signed the papers and checked all the boxes and Car was put on order.

In the meantime, they gave us a loaner----a loaner which was an automatic.

(It turns out that there are automatics in Norway. Quite a few, but they tend to be loaners from dealers. And we could have had an automatic, if Husband had known to ask, not to just trust the words on the standard paper. Oh well.)

So for six weeks, I went on field trips to places like the beach and IKEA, where I would learn the area and practice my rudimentary Norwegian on unsuspecting locals.

Here I am modeling the latest in Norwegian dishware. (Yep, I'm mature like that.)



Here's Erin trying it on as well. (Yep, she's mature like that, too.)



Then Husband got the call. Car was here.



And, still trying to be a good sport, I try to drive it.

And fail.

This is not good for House Durel.

And, again, trying to be a good sport, I try to drive it again.

And fail.

Again, this is not good for House Durel, not for what could be the obvious reason, but because it makes me feel defeated.

It is just one more thing that I cannot do.

Plus, it limits my options for a daily adventure to pretty much walking into town. Or hoping for an invitation from my more skilled friends.

(Or my one skilled friend. No one else of my friends here drives a manual. Also please, before you get judgey, out of all the people I know, only one has a car that is manual. So, while I may not know many people here yet, I know alot of people in other places.)

Both of which are great adventures, but knowing I only have two choices makes me feel trapped.

Plus, occasionally, I need to do something else, like go to the doctor or buy heavy things.

(Also, I once had an elfin grandmother. She was not actually an elf, but was very short and round. She said she couldn't but really just wouldn't drive. She was always tied to my grandfather's schedule or really, it was the other way around. I don't want to manipulate either of us that way. It's just not good for the family business.)

So sweet Husband tries to give Car back.

I thought it would be as easy as switching out a shirt at the department store.

This is how naïve I am.

And they say, "Of course, we'll take it back for the low, low price of 66,000 kroner."

That is not the price of the car.

That is the "buy-out-the-lease" fee, plus "some-more-money-because-we-registered-it-and-paid-some-taxes-or-something" fee.

And, frankly, sweet Husband was about to do it.

But, I couldn't let him.

So, the only thing to do was to figure out how to drive.

I know that millions of people do it every day. Also, I am not unintelligent. I know stuff. Surely, there was a wee part of my brain just waiting to be crammed with driving knowledge.

A few days ago, the husband of a friend said, "Elizabeth, it's such a good skill to have. You never know when you might use it."

I politely nodded while wracking my brain.

When would I need it?

This is what I came up with:

If I were in high school, in the middle of a field, at a party. If the only car available had a manual transmission and if the only other drivers were drunk and if I had to get home by Big D's curfew.

Then I would need to know.

But truthfully, it's much more likely I would be among the inebriated. I am not in high school any more. Also, I don't have a curfew.

So nope.

Why do manual transmissions even exist?** We don't live near the Autobahn. I don't care about fuel efficiency (Sorry.) And the highly regulated speed limits here are such that I cannot imagine many times that anyone even needs to shift all the way up to 4th, not to mention 5th and 6th. Seriously. Keep them for the Porsches, maybe, but quit it in the regular cars.

Which also to be clear. I have driven a manual in Atlanta. I drove one for two weeks while my Jeep was being repaired. In Atlanta, there are few hills, less roundabouts and if someone steps into the road, it's all on them. Not so here.

Also, to be clear, I can "go." I am also a pro at shifting. It's the whole "getting and staying started" where I have a problem.

But again, we have Car, so I have to figure it out.

Driving with Husband was not the most effective method of learning, so dear, dear friend Christine volunteered. She just started driving manual a few years ago for the exact same reason I am working on learning it now.

Her goal was not to get me good, but to get me going. She taught me the tricks and how to ride the clutch and which gear to cruise around the roundabouts.

I felt okay about it enough to try to go to the grocery store today.

I chose the non-rush hour times and set out.

To the nice men at the bottom of the street who smiled encourangely as I stalled going up the hill, then clapped when I got it going:

"Thanks. You helped me get started and made my day a little bit better."


To the honking people behind me when I stalled at the roundabout:

"I am so sorry that you are now two minutes later than you planned. I was flustered. I am suspecting not all of you are Norwegian because the noise you made was not nice. I do wish I knew where you were from because then I would talk smack about you and never visit your country. If you are Norwegian, here is a word for you to think about "empati." Please remember that once you had to learn to drive as well. I'll forgive you this time, but you made me cry and made my day a little bit worse. Also, fuck you."



*In case Car only understands Swedish...

Bäste Bil,

Jag hatar dig

Kyssar,
Elizabeth


** This is a rhetorical questions.

Things I Learned Today, Installment One

So our camera broke today. An error message saying "Memory Card Error" popped up on the screen instead of the inspired photo I was trying to take of the giant shrimp statue in the harbor.

Husband replaced the memory card, but was too embarrassed to take it to his friend, the technophile, because it is so out of date. So for a while, until we get a new one, we'll have to do without photos, but not for tooooo long....

In the meantime, I'll add in links when I appropriate (or deemed so by me...).

Today, we got a loaner car. It's a Saab 93 diesel (wagon, natch...) and we'll be driving this one until our actual car comes in the mail or on a boat or via train or however it is that cars get to places when they are not being driven. So Husband ditched work early and picked me up for a Friday afternoon drive.

We went all over the area and into the country side and here are a few things we saw and a few things I learned.

1) If you are driving along the road and see a sign that says "Fartputer" do not be alarmed. Slow down because, if not you will soon be flying over Speed Pillows, which are speed bumps.

2) A goat is a geit, which is pronounced Yight (rhymes with sight). More than one goat is a geiter.

3) It doesn't matter that it was cold enough that we were buttoned up and wearing gloves. On this afternoon, the sun was out and the waves were breaking. So, car loads of people were pulling up to the beach, stripping down and then zipping up their wetsuits all for a few hours of surfing in the afternoon sun.

4) Not all cars in Europe are stick shifts. Some of them are automatic, one of which, in our possession for the next month or so, is parked right by our front door.