Driving. Not only do I miss my car, but I really miss being able to drive.
One of the Peace Corps' rules is that no volunteer is allowed to drive in their host country. For a while I wasn't precisely sure why this is; my recruiter described it as a status thing, that it wouldn't look good to your community if you were seen driving around in a car. But he seemed to be presupposing at least a couple of things: that this hypothetical vehicle would be owned by the volunteer, as opposed to being hired for a holiday or day trip, and that the community in question would have a scarcity of vehicles (considering that Romania is choked with cars, I can't imagine that "car" would automatically be perceived as a status symbol, though I could be wrong about this). I was picturing my vehicular excursions more in the manner of hiring or borrowing a vehicle for a specific purpose--a scenic road trip, say, or taking students somewhere as part of a lesson.
Regardless of the reason, none of us can drive anything motorised, anywhere in Romania--it's one of the few rules that is grounds for automatic termination of service, with no consideration or room for negotiation. And though I haven't specifically asked why this is, I would imagine that it's a combination of the reason my recruiter gave--viz., not appearing exceedingly wealthy in the eyes of your community--and then a safety and diplomatic issue. Apparently one of the leading causes of volunteer deaths back in the '70's was motorcycle crashes; and, someone who is essentially a US government employee potentially getting in some manner of vehicular accident with a host country national could turn into a diplomatic clusterfuck pretty quickly.
When I first arrived, I had no problem with the no-driving rule, especially after watching the way people drove in Ploieşti ... it seemed more like a saving grace than a restriction. Being accustomed as I was to the American style of driving (certainly not without its flaws, but benefiting from familiarity), it seemed more like an unorganised free-for-all than a system with any semblance of order, or at times even a vested desire to keep people alive and unharmed. There were major intersections devoid of traffic lights, large two-way streets without even a painted divider between the opposing directions, nary a lane line in sight, cars taking random turns as the fancy struck and driving on sidewalks with impunity. It seemed utterly reckless and completely inscrutable, and I was immensely grateful that, on top of all the other cultural variances we would have to learn to navigate, driving would not be an additional requirement.
But after spending some time in cars driven by other people, instead of just observing from the sidewalk or out the tram window, I feel like there's some logic to it, as though I've been able to filter some signal from the cacophony of noise that it originally seemed to be. And while city driving still doesn't seem like much fun (but then, I can't really think of any place where city driving is much fun), I feel like I would enjoy tackling not only the new set of urban traffic rules, but driving the national roads as well.

One of the interesting things about driving here is that nearly everyone uses a manual transmission (at least, outside of the big cities, where automatics seem slightly less exotic). I assumed, when I first discovered this, that this would automatically mean that everyone was also a superior driver of the manual transmission. Unfortunately, this assumption was completely unfounded, and after growing sadly accustomed to listening to people grinding their way through their gears and watching cars that seemed more often to hop than actually roll, I was able to figure out the flaw in my reasoning. I'd assumed that ubiquitousness equated proficiency. However, the opposite seems to be the case. Sit back and light a pipe as I pontificate for a moment.
When we in America, land of the automatic transmission, learn to drive a manual, we do so by choice, and therefore make a conscious effort to learn. We endure the embarrassing period of stalling out, grinding gears, the horrible vibrating that comes from the engine running too slowly in a particular gear. We badger and berate our friends who have stick shifts, we take lessons, we research the mechanics behind our transmissions on the internet. We're a special breed, who are learning out of preference rather than necessity. Here, where for the most part it isn't an option, driving a manual is just ... what there is. Fewer people invest the interest or energy in learning to do it well, because doing so was never a choice for them. It's not looked at as a point of pride to do it well because it's not seen as impressive here, the way it is there.
This isn't to say that everyone here seems to be trying to do active harm to their vehicles whilst driving. I've been in the car with people who both drive well and seem very comfortable with it. However, I've also been in the car with people who forget to shift up or down, seem utterly unaware of the existence and purpose of fifth gear, downshift at too-high speeds and elicit fears of whiplash, and generally don't seem to regard the piloting of a manual transmission as a "skill", but just a necessary evil attached to getting from point A to point B.