I Got Pulled Over by a British Cop While Driving in England

For Christmas, New Year’s, and our first anniversary, my person and I celebrated the holidays in Europe. While there, we visited London, Edinburgh, and Paris. On the London leg of the trip, in an effort to cover as much ground as possible in what would presumedly be a once-in-a-lifetime trip across the pond, we decided on a road trip down to the English countryside. Our itinerary consisted of the breathtaking prehistoric landmark Stonehenge before visiting the villages of Cotswolds and Lacock, in which some scenes of the Harry Potter films were shot.

Unfortunately, the road trip didn’t go as planned. The car rental process took much longer than anticipated, but I was glad to prolong the trip as much as possible because I was far too apprehensive to start driving on the opposite side of the road. While initially very jarring, once I was on the freeway, I quickly adapted and became fairly comfortable driving. However, the local streets were a completely different story. Once away from the large metropolis of London and down the smaller streets of Salisbury, my anxiety began to rise because the streets became narrower and narrower.

Thankfully, we made it to the Stonehenge visitor center, just an hour later than expected. Unfortunately, we didn’t spring for the charter bus to take us up the hill and instead opted for a 30-minute hike up to the landmark. In the icy cold rain and muddy trail, we made the miserable trek to Stonehenge. By the time we got back to the car, it was already starting to get dark. With our next stop a little over two hours away, very few and weak light sources, narrower roads, and an unconventional driving orientation, I attempted to white knuckle my way through to Cotswold, terrified out of my mind.

The small country roads on the way were, for the most part, winding dirt paths with very few and dim street lights that would appear maybe every other mile or so. There were so many sharp, blind bends with no way to predict if there was an oncoming car coming around before it was too late. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, staring off into the darkness, wide-eyed and never blinking, even almost hyperventilating. There were many times when I would almost hit the left side of the car on a garbage bin or foliage, attempting to avoid hitting another car on the right side.

Eventually, my partner told me to stop and pull over to discuss modifying our itinerary for the night. Thankfully, there was a petrol station just up ahead, where I sat, exhausted from the overdose of adrenaline and panic. She made a decision to call it quits for the night, opting instead for a dinner in a nearby town and retreating back to London. In a stroke of serendipity, there was a beautiful little town up ahead called Marlborough, where we stopped for a nice dinner at a local pub on what looked like the town’s main street.

After enjoying some delicious fish and chips, feeling rejuvenated to take on fury road again. Navigating our way back to the freeway was bit tricky, but we took a less dangerous route with more street lights and traffic lights. Aside from driving on the opposite side of the road, the English driving experience is also known for the very many roundabouts that are far more intense that I’ve seen in the States. They’re much larger with more stricter rules and they would unexpectedly appear with no real warning, which is part of the reason why the next part of the story happened.

Though I was hyper aware of driving the speed limit to avoid being pulled over by a cop, I went around the bend without realizing that it was a traffic circle and therefore, I didn’t slow down when I should have. Because I was so focused on driving and in conjunction with my tunnel vision, I didn’t realize that I had a passed a cop at the roundabout. As I went through and continued to make my way to the freeway, my partner glanced at the rear view mirror and wondered aloud if perhaps there was a police officer following us. Sure enough, just seconds after she said that, the lights flashed on and I nearly shit my pants.

I clumsily pulled over to the side, where I clearly wasn’t supposed to, as there was no room and anxiously waited my fate. The cop pulled over, got out and came over to my window. As most cops do, he asked, “Do you know why I stopped you?” I told him that I didn’t know and he explained that I had driven far too fast through the roundabout and nearly hit them.

Throughout the entire exchange, I was anxious, overly apologetic, and obsequious. In my personal experience, cops are arrogant assholes who want to be treated like royalty lest they bark at you and insult you for no reason. (A cop once called me stupid just for passing him on the road when I wasn’t speeding.) So I treated him like an American cop, apologized profusely, agreed with everything he said, and promised to abide by all the laws. I made sure to explain that we were tourists and therefore not super familiar with the laws, clearly terrified out of my mind. He was very forgiving, reassured me, asked where we were headed, and pointed us in the right direction back to the freeway. While they were scanning my license, he looked at me quizzically and asked if American cops were normally abrasive and difficult and I quickly and emphatically said, “Yes!” He said, “Wow” and mused about it in his head for a moment before handing me back my license. He re-explained that I have to slow down at the roundabouts before letting us go without a ticket.

Since then, I’ve discussed at length with my partner about that last question. It seemed to us that he was puzzled by the way I was sweating so hard about a routine traffic stop and formed a hypothesis about police behavior in the States, which I helped to confirm. Perhaps British cops are just much more easygoing and didn’t realize how brutal American cops can be. Thinking back on it now, American cops would have likely searched the vehicle believing my apprehension and nervousness as a sign of my hiding something in the car.

So this experience has taught me that driving in England fucking sucks, but likely because of that, police are far more forgiving. Or we just happened to come by a nice guy in small town who didn’t want to ruin a couple tourists’ holiday. Though that question he posed has me leaning towards the former. Either way, I wasn’t thrown into an English prison for driving too fast at a roundabout and made it back to the States without a warrant for my arrest.

While my experience driving on the small country roads of England may have traumatized me, I’m going to attribute it to the lack of light out. I believe it likely would have been far more enjoyable had the sun been out and I had the opportunity to actually see the small villages and countryside I was driving through.

What’s the moral to this story? Nothing really. I guess just be careful if you’re driving in the UK because it really sucks when you’re not in London. Not everything has to have an emotional catharsis.

Keep on.

Adam