Car nuts see the open road as far more than a welcome break from traffic or a lonely trip toward the horizon. We look at the roads at home and in every new place we travel and imagine endless exploration in a topless Grand Touring automobile, flying through gears and flirting with nature's slaloms to our heart's content.
So you can imagine what a letdown it is when you're 20 years old in South Florida visiting Gram, and dying to get behind the wheel of a car but can't because of that 24-year-old age requirement that most U.S car rental agencies uphold. All right, so that was five days without driving, and fortunately I survived.
But perhaps for a second you can imagine being a car guy, abroad in Spain for the semester, and unable to drive for five months. ¿Un Problema Grande? Perhaps not.
Do European car rental agencies actually care about the age of the renter? The answer is not really, and that is because in Europe, the "live and let live" attitude does not support strict limits that don't make sense - such as prohibiting someone who has had their license for four years from renting a car. In concordance with this relaxed mindset, work starts around 10 a.m., classes start 10 minutes late, deadlines don't really exist, and generally people seem much happier for it.
Sure enough, Hertz, Avis, and Thrifty have all adjusted to the European chill-out attitude and most permit car rental at 21, or even 18 if you're willing to pay a bit more for "new driver" insurance. Trust me; there are better deals than the "big three," especially in the Canary Islands off the coast of Northern Africa, where yours truly found himself for spring break and his 21st birthday. I didn't want to fool around with any "young driver insurance," so I patiently turned 21, woke up feeling fresh, and walked down the street toward the beach to find me some wheels.
There was a "55 Euro per day!" deal, a "wait until Monday" deal, and a "65 Euro for 3 day rental" deal. Bingo. I was told in broken English that my car would be a Renault Clio sans air conditioning or radio. OK, so I had the wind to cool me off, the open roads to concentrate on, and a clutch, thank the heavens. Then I read the small print, "Minimum age for rental is 23 yrs., no exceptions." I whipped out some Spanish, which shocked the rental agent, and told her I was only 21 (leaving out that I had only been 21 for three hours). I expected a half-smile and the contract to be ripped in two, followed by an "Hasta Luego." Instead I got a full smile and a, "Oh, but you look older. It will be fine. No pasa nada." She examined the D.O.B. on my license, something she clearly didn't care about before I opened my big mouth, and gave me a "¡Oh, Feliz Cumpleaños!"
At this cheerful foreign car agency, I was escorted out to the lot by this lovely Tenerife native and told that for my birthday, I get a free upgrade to a Clio with a 1.2-litre 4-cylinder engine, air conditioning, and a radio. It was all so effortless; free of the redtape typical of a U.S. rental agency that buries you in insurance policies and extra fees, and strangles you with the fear of not returning your cloth-upholstered GM in tip-top shape.
In reality, everyone knows rental cars are beaters, and my white hubcap-less Clio with 92,000 kilometers was no exception. She had seen better days, but was in perfect working order and ready to go in spite of many careless tourists had driven her hard and put her away shoddily. I did some exploring of my own, blending in flawlessly with the road around me; the following day I invited three friends to "ven conmigo" to the top of Teide Volcano, which sits two miles above sea level on the island of Tenerife and has the honor of being Spain's highest peak.
The nearly two-hour journey was all uphill on a winding mountain road that doubled back and forth on itself. The Clio stayed in second gear for almost the whole ride up, and carried four full-sized males up to the peak in air-conditioned comfort.
After a spectacular three-day rental, I put 10 euros worth of gas into the Clio and returned her happy as a clam. I was happy too; the car rental had endowed me with the opportunity to see a part of the island unreachable by public transport or foot. I stood atop the highest point in the country where I'm living until June and felt refreshed and fulfilled all because of a car rental.
What's more, I guarantee I handled that car as well as any 24-year old fanny-packer from Britain … even if it was on a freshly expired license. Ah, but no worries. Live and let live. Our open road is your open road. You gotta love it.
Keep on revvin'.
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