How to Drive In Spain Part I: A Tale of the Terrible Things We Do to Cars

I went with a late model Audi A4. The man at the rental agency seemed surprised at my selection, that I would choose the manual Audi over the automatic and perhaps more luxurious Mercedes, but I did so for two reasons.

First, because I had written a number of Audi advertisements but had never actually driven one.

Second, because I would be cruising down the Spanish Mediterranean coast from Barcelona to Granada, and in my mind I could already see all of the Driving that was to come. It was an endeavor that called for the dexterous pleasure of shifting gears, for sudden lane changes and side trips of questionable wisdom.

But my choice was wrong. I don’t blame Audi – their vehicle was theoretically just fine. Admirable even. It was while driving it, however, that I learned an important lesson that I will pass down to my children, should they ever spring into existence as they do.

And that lesson is this: never rent a stick-shift.

The A4 has been misused by an army of Hertz customers, and its clutch was shot all to hell. Had it been a horse and I a horseman of conscience, I would have put a bullet in it just to end its misery. And in a way, I suppose I eventually did. Or at least tried. But we’ll get to that later. The point is, it’s terrible what people will do to a car.

By the time I was through with it, the front left quarter panel was mostly gone, as was the entirety of the front bumper. One headlight was dragging on the road. I left the A4 as a smoking hull, dented and scratched and missing the aforementioned accoutrements, in front of the rental office in Granada without explanation.

There was no one there to tell, because it was 3pm – siesta – and the office was closed.

I have spent three significant periods of time in Spain over the past decade, ranging in duration from one month to one year, and I have driven through sizeable portions of the country on two of these occasions.

The first time, my college girlfriend and I drove from Malaga to Seville via the southern coast. Back in those days we had no money but many adventures. Most notably, we found a shipwreck, slept in a Spanish Civil War era bunker on the beach from which we could watch the lights of Morocco, and drank a lot of absinthe. Perhaps there were other situations more memorable than the absinthe (though it was good absinthe), but that was a trip for young lovers, and some tales are best kept tucked away in the privacy of pasts shared.

This most recent expedition was to have a very different tone, both by design and due to its inherent Bondian overtones. First of all, I had more money, which certainly doesn’t hurt. Second, I would be a single, young professional, loose on the countryside in a fast car boasting satellite navigation. The promise that such a circumstance holds…

And that promise was fulfilled – extravagant meals, stunning landscapes, seedy bars filled with sill seedier characters, tranquil spas, cultural experience spanning the beautiful to the bizarre, art, music, misadventure, hotel romance, and so on.

But none of that is what we’re here to talk about. Right now, we’re on the driving, the experience of car-jockeying through Spain. And it is an experience, let me tell you. Which is exactly what I’m going to do.

Here are a few things I learned about driving in Spain. Some are more or less unique to the country, while others are more universal. Like never renting a manual.

Really, don’t ever do that.

Click to read How to Drive In Spain Part II: The Rules Are Mostly Suggestions