How to pass a tank

R and I didn't look for a new dentist after we moved to the City. We still go to the dentist we visited when we lived in Small Village; it's only about 20 minutes by car and has the added convenience of being 5 minutes away from R's parents. When one of us has a dentist appointment we swing by the farm and drop off Small Boy, who then procedes to have a wonderful time being thoroughly spoiled (in the best sense of the word) by his grandparents*. The grandparents love having him to themselves with no parental supervision, and I don't have to find a baby-sitter. An even bigger upside is when R goes to the dentist he brings Small Boy to the farm, all of the above good things happen, and I stay behind in the city running amok and child free. Everybody wins.

(What does this have to do with a tank? Wait, wait, I'm getting there.)

Today Small Boy had to see the dentist. After Sunday's crash and subsequent blood-letting, I visited the Kinderarzt, who thinks, as far as anybody can tell, that everything should be fine with Small Boy's permanent teeth. Since the permanent teeth are still inside his gums, of course, nobody can really tell me anything with any certainty. But he said that we should see a dentist and have the dentist file an Unfall report - to go on record that this accident happened and that we saw a dentist at the time. That way if, five years from now, Small Boy's permanent teeth do turn out to be damaged our insurance will cover any repair work that might need to be done. Since there was no need to see a pediatric dentist I took him out to our dentist by the farm. Small Boy and I went early, had lunch with R's parents - they love watching that boy eat - and then swung by the dentist who asked a few questions, looked in Boy's mouth, also said that although it's impossible to tell what's going on beneath the gums he doesn't think anything could really have happened since nothing happened to the baby teeth, filled out the Unfall report, and sent us on our way.

(Um, the tank?)

So, after lunch at the in-laws and the trip to the dentist I strap Boy into the car seat and pull out of the parking lot. And of course it's his nap-time. And it's only a 20 minute drive home. And transfering Boy from the car to the crib and expecting the nap to continue is a fool's errand. I laugh just thinking about it. So I took the scenic route home. Very scenic. I drove towards Small Village where we used to live, took a long detour towards Other Small Village where R's mom grew up, and turned in the direction of Respectable Sized Town. I drove past farm land covered with snow, through tiny villages, over hill and dale. I waited for a train at a crossing. Here, by the way, is a random fact about Switzerland. Did you know that every level railroad crossing in Switzerland, even in the smallest rural village, has crossing gates that block both sides of the street on both sides of the tracks? It is not possible to do that stupid thing that people do when they try to drive around the gates; every inch of the street is blocked by a gate. Smart, no? The train passed (it was a freight train, not a passenger train), I crossed the tracks, turned left, and got stuck behind two tanks. Really. Tanks. Two of them. On the road. Just driving along.

I've seen tanks before. I've even seen tanks up-close. It's not all that uncommon in Switzerland - the military is always on the move and they do a lot of their practice maneuvers out among the towns and villages. Once, back in Small Village, two tanks parked in our driveway and a security detail positioned itself in our garden. We brought them hot coffee, which apparantly is what one does in Switzerland when the army takes up positions in your front yard. I've felt the house shake when six tanks rumbled through Small Village one after another. I've watched tanks drive across a pontoon bridge built by R's brigade. But I've never driven behind a tank. You can't really see around them and you can't really see over them. And are there rules about how much distance you should keep between yourself and the tank in front of you? What's an acceptable safety cushion when you're dealing with a 55-ton vehicle? Twenty-five meters suddenly doesn't seem like enough, you know? (Though frankly it's the tank behind me I'm more concerned about.) And here's a thought - are you even allowed to pass a tank?

Fortunately there was one car behind me and we were passing a restaurant. I quickly pulled off the road, let the car behind me take up the front position, and pulled back out, resolving to do exactly what that guy did. (Working on the assumption that that guy was Swiss and had driven behind a tank at some point in his life and not a fellow foreigner with no tank-passing experience. This was not on my DC driving test.) There was a soldier in the tank holding up a red flashlight (R informs me this was probably the tank commander) which clearly meant DO. NOT. PASS. We trundled along through a few villages until we hit an open stretch of road flanked by fields. The tank commander waved us to pass. The car in front of me passed. I passed. One tank. So there I was driving along with a 55-ton vehicle in front of me and a 55-ton vehicle behind me. I couldn't help but think of my little Honda as the filling in a tank sandwich. The tank commander in the front tank did not have a red light but instead held his arm straight out to the side in a gesture that clearly meant DO. NOT. PASS. I drove on like this for a few minutes until the tank commander started waving wildly. GO. GO. GO. The car in front of me pulled out to pass. I pulled out to pass. And here is my second random fact about Switzerland for the day. The average tank is wider than one-half of the average Swiss road, which is none too wide to begin with and even less so when it has recently been cleared of snow. I cleared the tank, pulled back into my lane (signalling, of course, my intent), and continued on towards the Main Road that leads back to City.

Small Boy slept through the whole thing.

So that is how you pass a tank. Very. Very. Carefully.

* Okay, the very first time we tried this there were some tears. But now the three of them together have a grand old time.