We had our share of crazy traffic. Bumper-to-bumper traffic telling you, yes, you've finally reached the friendly city. Getting stuck for 30 minutes on a one-lane mountain road watching an excavator transport shovel-load after shovel-load of rocks. Workers in neon-green vests shrugging at us, refusing to switch the temporary traffic light to green. Ending up on the wrong side of one-way roads. Almost running into a young deer at 2am on the mountain roads. Watching someone wham his vehicle hard into the one behind him so that he had enough space to park.

But I love the quaint road signs on the buildings instead of mounted on a post along the road. The roads, cobbled instead of black tar. Driving past vehicles transporting all kinds of things: Peugeot cars, sailboats, houses. Small picturesque towns, each with its own history. The sheer enjoyment of sitting in the car with a map on my knees, watching small circled points on the map materialize before my eyes as whole towns and cities.

A driving holiday gives a totally off-beat perspective. Have car, will travel.