Two weeks ago I was introduced to the British style of driving.

On the left side of the road.

There had been a mix up with my brother- and sister-in-law and their British driver’s licenses so in order to cart the large group of us around all week, I drove Tiffany’s van.

And I drove all week. Every day. Depending on where our outings were for the day, sometimes several hours in a day. I still needed her to coach me from the passenger seat, but by the end of the week, I’d become proficient at roundabouts and merging onto motorways from the left side of the road. So much so that it was difficult to imagine driving on the right on my California streets back home.

I know that sounds strange. But it became normal to me.

So much so that I got a little scared when proposed with the idea of resuming normal right-side driving when I got home. Would I be able to switch my brain back again? How long would it take me? Sounds like I’m exaggerating. I’m not.

Tuesday morning back in the US, I had to go to the market: staples like eggs, bread and milk. I strapped the kids in my car, buckled my seatbelt and said a little prayer. I backed out.

By the time I reached the end of my own street, no more than 15 houses worth, I had it all back. England’s roundabouts became distant and I needed no time to adjust.

It was so difficult to learn a new habit (left side driving), but so simple to revert to an old habit (right side driving).

Its like anything with me. Breaking old habits are nearly impossible, it seems sometimes, because it is so easy and slippery to slide back into them. Eating poorly, becoming lazy with housework, speaking with tension to my kids. Whenever I try to break these habits, I am only successful for a short amount of time. One tiny mess-up and then I’m back to bingeing on peanut butter toast and bowls of Lucky Charms.

Erasamus said, “A nail is driven out by another nail. Habit is overcome by habit.”

In order to break a habit, I can’t ever revisit the old way of living. Whatever it is, eating right or being productive in my writing or in my housework, I need to create new habits and then allow them to replace (not overlay) any old way of living.

So I’m stuck here, driving on my right side of the road. An old habit. But this old habit is a good one.

I never intended to come to England and drive a car.

I could have lived the rest of my life NOT having driven a diesel car on the left side of the road, switching around everything I’ve ever learned about driving in the last 17 years to other parts of my brain. Somehow necessity makes one brave.

But I have to say, after about 85 collective minutes today behind the English wheel spread across three different excursions, I think I’m getting the hang of it.

It requires active thinking. I need to concentrate on what I’m doing, and I can’t even think about where I’m going. The only way I survived carriage roads, motorways, impossibly narrow streets with no room to spare on either side was because my sister-in-law coached me.

Hug the close side of the road when turning left. Drive out into traffic and around when turning right. Be careful on the roundabouts, and yield to all traffic when entering.

[My brother-in-law took a picture of me and my white knuckles that we'll pull off his phone later.]

Relearning something I’ve known how to do and do well for so many years was difficult. And I think sometimes I get fat in my non-brave life. I think taking risks, trying new things, and letting myself get “pressed” by life is a good thing.

I came here to reconnect with family and see some beauty, but I ended up relearning bravery instead.