Driving from the passenger seat

So I’m in the US for a few weeks and I decided that being on holidays gives me even less of an excuse for not blogging. Sorry I only write occasionally, but perhaps you are secretly pleased that you don’t have to hear from me all the bloody time.

I was very pleased with myself this week when I took a little car trip on my own for a coffee run. Sure, not everything went smoothly, I went to get in the passenger seat but after looking around to make sure no one saw me I smiled to my self and proceeded to driver mode. I managed to stay on the correct side of the road and adapt to local driving rules like “right turn on any red signal after stopping”. This is one of my favorite rules along with “do a u-turn at any traffic light whenever you feel like it.” In Sydney if you need to turn around it’s not a problem either. Given, you can’t just “make a u-turn” when ever one takes your fancy, instead simply follow these easy steps:
* Drive for six kilometers swerving between lanes as you trying to figure out if the sign ahead (that is hidden behind a tree branch) is “no left turn” or “no right turn”
* Realise you are 3 suburbs away from where you missed your turn
* get fed up and make an illegal turn into a petrol station
* wait five minutes for all the cars to move out of the way and illegally exit the petrol station via the “entry only” driveway and you’re back on track… Easy!

I find when we are here and my wife is driving, I tell her how to drive more than I usually do. I think it’s because subconsciously, from the passenger seat, I feel like I am actually driving. I keep looking up at the rear view mirror and getting annoyed that it’s on some crazy-ass angle and I can’t see a thing. How does that mirror keep getting moved? I can’t look out for morons in monster trucks coming up behind me. Then I realise I am not driving and relax.

I mentioned the coffee, which I seem to talk a lot about. Don’t get too excited It was just Starbucks where I purchased what I like to think of as hot caramel milkshake (which I do admit to liking) and if you are friends with me on Facebook you would have seen a recent status update:
“Knotts Berry farm today: did I drink a Starbucks grande for breakfast? Yes. Did I immediately go on the biggest rollercoaster, the one with the loops and backwards and the more loops? Did it end in much vomit? … Yep. Then I felt better and had some chicken. I love America.”

So maybe I like these milkshakes a little too much but I am really missing Sydney coffee. I just want a piccolo latte from Mecca but try to convince myself to drink yet another gallon-o-latte with vanilla creamer in the hope that it will stop the craving. It doesn’t. Maybe that is what really happened with the roller coaster incident, it was my body rejecting American coffee.

Do you know where to get good coffee in LA?