They take up 1½ spots pretty regularly and in some areas parking spots are precious. Now I fit into the ½ spots.
My salesman wanted to make a production out of the purchase. He insisted on taking this photo, (love the big key), and he was a bit disappointed that I hadn’t brought “sweets”, to celebrate. I promised to bring some, assuming I find out what the heck he means by sweets, when I go back to pick up my auto-key-fob thingie.
Some more thoughts on driving in
They honk a lot. Not in a “Get the hell out of my way” or “Hey, look out you jerk” kind of way. More like joggers when they pass each other “On your left”. Initially I would look around trying to figure out what I’d done wrong.
There are quite a number of speeds bumps. I’ll be driving down a street when suddenly ba-bump. Whoops. They are usually marked with a sign but my eyes aren’t used to seeing the signs yet. Getting better.
Omanis are horrible, horrible tailgaters. This is probably the most dangerous thing about their driving. They do it whether I’m going the limit or not. They come up so fast and get soooooo close. It’s scary. I’ve never seen American drivers get that close. I just get out of the way as quickly and safely as I can.
The traffic lights go amber/yellow before they turn red AND before they turn green.
There are no free right turns at a red light or stop sign.
All gas stations are full serve and no one turns their engine off while they pump. Gas is ridiculously cheap. Not sure how large my tank is, (probably pretty small), but it cost me 4 rials ($10.00 US) to fill it today and I had run it to the empty indicator.
Locals stop and have a picnic wherever they please. They just cop-a-squat at the side of the road.
The roads here are all beautiful. Highways and side streets are all lined with palm trees, grass and flower beds. Lots of petunias and bougainvilleas. An army of Indian men in blue overalls take care of them.
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