Lock your doors, I'm on the road

One of the first things I realised about learning to drive is that it can be quite humiliating. Atleast if you're 26.

All I kept thinking during my first lesson, whilst only being allowed to touch the accelerator, was that 'most people doing this are 17'. It's a bit like being held back a year at school. Although instead of it being a year, it is 9 years.

What makes it worse is that I was taken to place where other learners take their lessons. It was particularly humbling when I was over-taken by a girl in a school uniform.

The instructor
John isn't really my driving instructor's name, but I have protected his identity due to the expected popularity of this blog. The attention wouldn't be fair.

On first meeting John I was a little concerned. He seemed crazy, dressed in his chino trousers and jesus creepers with socks on. John seems to think it is his role not only to educate me on driving, but also on the state of our broken society.

We’ll often be mid-road, mid-manoeuvre, when John will launch into a lambasting attack on the jobless for their laziness, or the government for the rate of tax or the neighbours for their inconsiderate filling of a giant paddling pool. At first I was concerned this would affect my tuition, but now I enjoy it and it keeps me relaxed.

Also John is what I would call old-school. He started by telling me he had been teaching for 29 years. Although with all of the other jobs he seems to have had, including one of Cadbury, I'm a little dubious of the maths.

Anyway, in true old school fashion, instead of a laptop with a powerpoint or official drawings, John uses hand drawn diagrams decorated with coloured pencils. They look a bit like a child’s attempt at drawing a sunny day. But as he was soon to tell me 'they haven't let him down in 29 years' and on that I trust him.

Lesson one
So the important thing about lesson one is that it got me moving. After the briefest of discussions on the different mechanisms within the car - pedals, steering wheel, handbrake - I was put in the driving seat. At first I was just given control of the 'gas' and the steering wheel whilst John took care of gears and breaking.

I did eventually move up to taking control of the gears (first and second) and then the brake. But to be honest I found the progression a little tricky. When I was just steering I was fine. If I had to touch the gear stick, or even look in the mirror I started veering. At best I would be going left, so just start heading towards parked cars. At worst I would be taking a right, so veering into the oncoming traffic.

Luckily John's reactions were deceivingly quick. As soon as I started to veer into oncoming traffic, he would grab the wheel and together we would straighten up and change gear. He could even do this whilst ranting: "how much debt are you in? Terrible the government puts you in all that debt. You ain't got a chance." Thankfully he wasn't talking about my driving.

Taking the plunge

I've never understood how people learned to drive so quickly. For a while at school it seemed as though you had your 17th birthday and the week after were given your driving license. That was certainly the case with my twin brother.

And as a 16- year-old I thought I would take the same path. I had a car waiting for me to share with my brother and a promise of driving lessons from my parents. I even had an eye test and got some £200 FCUK glasses for my ever so slightly impaired eyesight.

But when it came down to it, I could never quite fill out the form.

You see as a child I had a couple of epileptic fits, which required another form and the whole palaver got a little too much for me. My brother was the obvious beneficiary. He got more of my parent’s money for lessons and a fully insured car all to himself to drive around the streets of Cambridgeshire. Meanwhile I scrounged lifts.

Anyway travelling and university ensued and even though I planned to learn to drive at different points, I could never quite organise myself. There must be a library's worth of half filled out provisional license forms around the place along with unsigned cheques as the fees slowly crept higher.

Not only was a lack of a provisional license a barrier to driving, but it was also a barrier to getting into the pub. On numerous occasions I would walk the length of Broad Street shitting myself as to whether I would get in with my best friend Stevie reminding me of how stupid I was in an aggravated tone!

My passport was the only ID that would suffice in it's place, which was often too valuable to take to Lloyds bar due to a forthcoming trip or previously lost on a night out.

A major breakthrough
Eventually I took the first step. It must have been about 2008 and with time to spare I took a day to get the photos, write the cheque and fill out what must have been my 26th provisional application.

For the two years since it has sat proudly in my wallet, during which time I have not needed for ID once. Again things got the better of me, and feeling exhausted from the whole 'applying for my provisional' experience I put the lessons on hold.

Over the past few months I have got closer though. I earmarked my bonus in March for driving lessons. But in the process of getting the best quote I spent the money on booze and a holiday.

However, redundancy has provided the perfect opportunity. It’s given me, not only the money but also the time. Last week I marched into the nearest BSM (about 3 mins walk) and booked 10 lessons without even considering the price. When they said 'do you want to book a couple of hours in the simulator first?' which must be a con, I said 'yes of course I do'.

Open road, here I come.