I affectionately call it the Metallic Easter Egg, the Irish Emerald Geo-de, and on one occasion, the Jolly Green…Miniature. For, it was the tiniest car ever to hold 2 very American tourists, their travel gear, and an ever-growing bundle of ‘On Holiday’ souvenirs.
The valiant and spirited underdog zipped like a top let go from a toddler across the Irish countryside. It reminded me of tinny wind up mice that cats play with….whirring and circling and eventually unwinding themselves to a stop. To this day, I feel like it should have been plugged in at night or like we should have fed peanuts to the squirrels on the wheel in the engine compartment. Perhaps, we should have been using a plastic dipstick style cord to insert and then yank out to wind up the internal rubber band mechanism. No, it never did feel like a ‘real’ car – solid, sturdy, dependable, smooth or agile. But, come to think of it, an ‘L’ road somewhere outside Galway, Ireland is no place for a luxury automobile!
Picture it, a hazy sky hanging low like contented cat’s eyes. The knobby clouds covered the horizon like a woolen blanket produced in the finest Merino mills. It was April in Ireland after all.
The aforementioned Americans breakfasted heartily and were abuzz at the thought of a day trip excursion into the countryside of Connaght. Optimism grew to a feverish pitch as they effortlessly pointed the green orb toward its halfway mark for the day, Connemara National Park. Navigation skills were sharp on day 16 of 30 in this magic land. Many a lesson had been learned by missing turns, missing landmarks, and all too frequently, signage that was completely missing. But these tourists were naïve and enthusiastic as they ventured out with only a light snack, map and passports in hand.
The tranquil, olive hillsides slipped by one after another on through the morning. There was no cell phone coverage, no radio reception and if memory serves, no power lines….
An eerie little doubt began to nibble in the wee dark recesses of the mind. Signs in English AND Gaelic began to dwindle. Soon only Gaelic could be seen. Nervous titter was exchanged between the thrill seekers.
The steel egg continued to buzz along without a care. It seemed fueled by the freedom of the country space. The clean air like nitrous to the motor. This life so opposed to the forced labor in the city of Galway under which it usually serves its sentence.
The mood in the tiny jade rocket flagged only for a moment until cresting a knoll, a pub rose into view. Even after consuming cheese, crackers and drinks, hunger had began to motivate these hearty travelers to seek a tavern for a meal.
After a satisfying repast and confirmation of the route chosen for the day, the journeyers were again underway.
However, soon realizing that the day was more than half over and the trip was not, the navigator began to look for alternatives to shorten the distance. The pilot of the spherical machine was eager and trusting. Both had experience with ‘M’ named map lines – they were freeways, ‘A’ referred to highways, and ‘N’ were side streets. But on this map was a new assignment to a passageway. The little white line beckoned the trekkers like the siren song of Greek mythology. The temptation to veer off the known path was too strong. The hapless wayfarers turned off the familiar ‘N’ designation.
It was ‘ON’ now. The challenge was accepted with gusto. No one but the locals knew what lay ahead. With hearts swollen with adrenaline and dopy grins on their eager faces, the metallic rubber ball-like contraption seemed to float over the surface of the earth. The vehicle may have left the ground at one point as the hysterically laughing pilot and navigator were bounced and tossed like a rudderless vessel in a perfect storm. Up on its side and thrown over a hill, tossed to the left suddenly, then pitching back up and over small rocks. The delight in the machine, paved surface and human exhilaration was intoxicating! The bottle green bubble had subtly taken control of the passengers. The dashboard and steering wheel had become the safety bars on this world-class roller coaster! The passengers were simply along for the ride! And what a ride it was! When the road stopped at the next intersection, they were left stunned and giggling like junior high girls as the unadulterated high began to wear off.
In reality, the thoroughfare was nothing more than asphalt-like substance poured out over grass tuft, rock, hill and dale. I can’t with 100% certainty say, but I would almost swear that one hump actually ‘baaaa-ed’ as we passed over it! No thought of going around any obstacle had remotely entered the, and I use the term loosely, engineer’s mind during ‘construction’.
It was a highlight of an already wonderful excursion to the Emerald Isle and I will repeat it if ever given the chance such was the delight of that hazy April day in the year 2000.
