In which I lose my sense of humour

So. That other weekend, when we rented the car? When we were white-knuckling it the whole way, getting tailgated like crazy, honked at and passed unsafely by British drivers, finding it hard to get the confidence to get anywhere NEAR the speed limit they post on ill-designed and incredibly narrow and twisty roads, because we were so worried about not hitting cars careening around corners towards us halfway into our lane or not hitting the kerbs (no shoulders on most roads here) and flipping over?

Here's the tremendously unfunny punchline. We got a speeding ticket.* In the mail today. Apparently from a speed camera about a kilometre from our house, on the return journey. We were six miles over the speed limit. Because we had just come off a roundabout from a major ring road with a much higher speed limit and were trying not to get rammed from behind. What the %$#@*! is THAT? 6 miles an hour translates to just under 10 kilometers an hour. Has anyone in North America ever been ticketed for going less than 10 km over the speed limit? I rather think not. On top of this, the lovely rental agency is charging 35 pounds (about 80 bucks) just to pass the ticket along to us.

Neither of us has ever gotten a speeding ticket in our lives. Neither of us has ever had a flat tire. Neither of us has ever had any trouble with car rental agencies or been dinged for charges in excess of basic rental fees.

Driving in this country Is. Not. Worth. It.

* For the record, Jeff was driving. Very cautiously and safely, might I add.