My Irish Dog

Chapter Three

Once Spencer arrived at the airport following his one-night stay at the Midway Bed and Breakfast, he headed directly to the misdirected baggage office of Air Lingus, hoping his fishing case had arrived from Amsterdam or wherever it had been residing. What he found wasn't an office really, although there undoubtedly was one, but rather an open corridor leading to a restricted area closed off by two large steel doors. At least it seemed restricted, as people would come out through the doors, but he never noticed anyone going in.

Several other people loitered around the same vicinity. Spencer guessed they were most likely similar victims of misplaced luggage from the night before or perhaps even prior. He picked up a black telephone hanging on the corridor wall to make his inquiry. The discussion went back and forth until it was clear that his fishing case was yet in an unknown location and certainly not yet at the Dublin airport.

Great, I came to Ireland to do some fishing, at least partially, and now no rod and no reel. Before he hung up the phone, he was assured that a courier service would transport the case to his Cahir bed and breakfast just as soon as it arrived in Dublin. With some skepticism, Spencer resigned himself to the fact that nothing more could be done today.

***

Spencer made his way over to the car rental agency. After finishing up with the rental agreement paperwork, he handed his credit card to the agent. It was accepted and processed immediately, with no indication of the issue encountered at the Midway B&B. Mike's machine obviously had not been functioning properly. He would pay Mike via his PayPal account once he arrived in Cahir—Spencer didn't like any debt hanging over his head, no matter how small.

He had reserved an economy-class car, intent on saving some money, and what he got was what he paid for. A simpler vehicle he hadn't experienced since he owned his first car way back in the 1970s.

The white Suzuki was exceedingly compact, just big enough for Spencer and a suitcase or two. The car had room for another passenger, but not much beyond that. No indication of its model presented itself, either inside or out. A simple AM/FM radio, manual crank windows, and a four-speed manual transmission completed its austerity.

"Really? They still make cars like this?" Spencer said to himself as he pulled out of the parking lot. He crossed off "have fun driving" from his mental list of things to do on this trip.

But he was fairly certain that, while perhaps not fun, driving here would be a challenge, especially given the car's manual transmission, driving on the left-hand side of the narrow roads, and the endless roundabouts. If he could make it through this vacation without an accident, he would consider it a success.

He had preordered a dash-mounted GPS system to guide him along the way. At least the agency had succeeded in providing that. Hooray! Something had gone right. Now that he had some wheels, the first step was to get out of Dublin. Some of the Irish motorways had tolls and others didn't. Spencer had read up on this beforehand and knew that the main motorway that worked its circular route around the area of Dublin was a toll road.

Because he wasn't sure how the fees were collected, Spencer purposely avoided the M50 motorway. The alternative route was to drive back through the city streets of Dublin, eventually leading to the M7, which would take him, more or less, to the exit leading to the village of Cahir.

Although he appreciated the opportunity to enjoy a scenic detour through the outskirts of the historic city, Spencer felt relieved once he exited the traffic of Dublin and began his journey down the motorway.

He left the city and began driving through the countryside. Spencer loved being in an unknown country for the first time and soon took notice of the landscape around him. Ireland was known as the Emerald Isle, but the scene didn't necessarily appear that way to him.