Theory test destruction

So the theory test didn’t go too well. I failed. In fact I got zero. A kind friend pointed that out to me when I was at my lowest.

But I feel I have to explain that it wasn’t my fault. I explained to the lady in my driving school that I needed it on a Saturday in about four-six weeks. So when a letter came through the door with a late twenties date on it I assumed that it was for the last Saturday of July.

Unfortunately I wasn’t free on the last Saturday of July so had to phone up to re-arrange….

“Hello, I would like to rearrange my theory test, my name is Andrew Webster”

“You can’t rearrange your test if it started 15 minutes ago, can you check the date for me

"...Bugger"

Even if it wasn't completely my fault, the stats speak for themselves. I’ve got a failed theory test next to my name. Embarrassing.

My diabolical driving….

…is getting better I think. Two lessons this weekend and apart from overshooting a junction forcing John to slam on the emergency brake and give me an almighty (verbal) lashing, I wasn’t at all bad.

Third gear is somewhat of a sweet spot these days (I’ve stopped looking down at the gear stick when I move it into third) and it takes more than moving off at a traffic light to fluster me.

I think I have come through the learner driver pain barrier. My lesson last week was so awful I could feel my bottom lip starting to quiver as I got out the car. It was a bit like when I was substituted / made a substitute for my junior football team. Complete inadequacy. But today I slammed the car door with a radiant smile.

Manoeuvre madness

I’ve been doing the three point turn, parallel park and reverse around a corner manoeuvres all weekend.

The parallel park is a risky one because it involves a stranger’s car. I was actually midway through my first attempt, reving and jolting all over the place, when the owner came back to his stationary car. It was obvious it was him. As soon as he saw what was going on, he started to jog towards his car. Needless to say we abandoned that attempt.

But it was the reverse around a corner manoeuvre that really confused me.

“What I want you to do Andrew is drive up to the turning on the left, indicate as if you are going to turn down it, and then just carry on driving past it. Once you’re 10 metres past the turning, stop and reverse backwards around the corner.”

“OK…But when would I need to do that John?”

“When you do your test.”

“Well can’t I just turn left instead of driving past the turning? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“NO!”

So raise a glass to progress. Now where is that porno for the tube journey to work tomorrow? Theory test soon.

Something to hide

People on the tube thought I was concealing a porno today. They thought I was concealing a pornographic magazine during the rush hour. The truth though was far more demeaning. I was actually concealing the Highway Code.

You see I am having to revise for my theory test. I am essentially taking an exam that you are deemed as ready to take when you are 17. I’m thinking GCSEs here.

And yes, the thought has crossed my mind, 'what if I fail?' I remember when I was at school and a friend failed it. He was so embarrassed. Say I do the same but as someone hanging on to my mid-twenties? That can’t happen.

I am therefore revising as hard as I can to pass this test and save a little face. If that means that people on the tube think I am concealing a porno then so be it.

Road rage

Amber. Red. Shit.

It was in my fourth driving lesson I found myself at the front of a queue at a red traffic light on a slight hill.

It was one of those situations where you know something bad is going to happen, but you are defenceless to do anything about it. You just have to sit and wait. It was like that time I burnt out the centre of our garden and just had to wait for my parents to come home and discover it.

Green! GO, GO, GO! Accelerator down violently, foot straight off the clutch and…stall.

This is when the beeping started - a line of angry London motorists being held up by a 26-year-old learner driver. And to make it worse, as I reset the engine and re-applied the handbrake, the lights turned to red once more.

But John wasn’t going to stand for that sort of aggression. The window came down, he turned his head and with two fingers raised firmly in the air started to shout a barrage of abuse, the words of which I couldn't quite catch.

I think that angered them more though because for the next minute the beeping didn’t stop.

But that didn't intimidate John. He just turned to me and calmly said: “Don’t worry. Make the bastards wait.”

You can imagine the panic I was in now. To keep a line of angry traffic waiting at a traffic light twice would be seriously bad news. With my hands shaking and beads of sweat dripping off my brow, I slowly moved away.

It had been playing on my mind

It was lesson three I asked the question. It had been on my mind for a while, but I just hadn’t dared to ask. But lesson three I decided I had too.

“John, you know I have to look in the mirrors every time I slow down or turn, or anything really?”

“Yes (grabs wheel, still haven’t got the hang of talking and steering at the same time)”

“Well what am I looking for exactly?”

“What do you mean what are you looking for?”

He had clearly never been asked this bizarre question before.

“Well when I go up to a speed bump or turn left, it doesn’t matter if I see a car behind me or not, I just do the same thing.”

“Andrew! You just keep looking in the mirrors, OK?”

“OK. Thanks John”

There was some justification after that, but the message was clear. Look in the mirrors.

Driving is about new experiences
Lesson three provided another first. I was driving down a busier road (as in it had other cars) and John, out of no where, said “clutch down, and third hear.”

I admit, I panicked a bit. It wasn’t what I would call a smooth transition. GRHREIHDFFGIHB, and there she is. Third gear. Thirty miles an hour. Hands in the ten to two position. It doesn’t get much more exhilarating than that.

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.