The recent change to the driving test seems a good move to me. I’ve taken a test six times and passed four times. For me, taking the test has been a series of stepping stones. I took my cycling proficiency test at eleven. Having been riding a bicycle since four, it was a doddle. Moving up to a moped at sixteen was just a case of getting used to having an accelerator. I can’t remember how many times I was stopped by the police while I was riding my moped but it was pretty often. If I was seen with a pillion, quite understandably, they would want to check that I had passed my test. I used the moped a lot – it got me two up, with equipment, to Amsterdam. We both had crash helmets which raised a laugh for many a police officer on the continent. Crossing into Germany from the Netherlands the border guard told me to halt. I stopped. He went into his hut and came out with three of his colleagues and they all burst out laughing. Two up on a moped – and with crash helmets – they can only be English.
I had in mind moving up to a car when I was seventeen. I had a car already, but just as it is today, it was the running costs that I had to keep my eye on. Fortune has always looked on me kindly so just before I set off to drive my Ford Anglia the Yom Kippur war began and with it petrol prices went up fourfold and I could no longer afford to run a car – so it had to be a motorcycle instead.
My new motorbike was considerably more powerful than my moped (the limit for a learner on a motorcycle in those days was 250cc) but apart from power the only difference was that I had to get used to changing gear.
I loved riding my motorbike. At the end of a day I could leave the school gates behind in Hammersmith and be home in Harrow in minutes. The final stretch was in a bit of open country and – there being no speed cameras in those days – I could burn up the tarmac.
Once while riding to my Saturday job at five in the morning I overtook a car outside the Hammersmith Palais. Within moments this car roared passed me with the windows down and they were all waving me to stop. The last thing I was going to do was to hang around while four guys got up to their mischief. So I opened up the gas and whipped past them again. This time they came at me at warp speed with sirens blazing. It was an unmarked police car. I told them that one cannot be too careful going through Shepherd’s Bush at night so I don’t hang around. They were decent chaps so we had a natter about motorbikes and I was on my way again.
Although I loved motorbiking, I thought it would be useful to get my car driving licence. I entered for a test without notice and very quickly one came up. As my parents were not prepared to let me drive either of their cars – my eldest sister had crashed my father’s car, I had to get by on lessons alone. I think I booked between five and ten lessons and because it was such short notice I had a couple of instructors and several different vehicles. Most people take their car test not having cycled since they were kids and having never ridden a moped or motorbike, so all I had to contend with was the bits of the test which would be new to motorcyclists – three-point turns and reversing around a corner (parallel parking had not yet been introduced).
I was so wrong. My first instructor kept on telling me that I simply drove too fast. I would come up to a junction and despite there being give way markings I sailed straight into the traffic. He said I should stop at give way lines but I replied that if they really wanted me to stop they would put down a stop line. But I conceded that to pass the test I had to play by the rules required to pass the test. During these lessons I learnt to give way to traffic that was not there. I also mastered three-point turns quickly although reversing around a corner took a little longer – it being something that I had not done before – and I have rarely done it since.
Driving tests are weird, apart from the odd direction, the examiners say nothing. I was so relieved that I had managed to reverse around the corner well and perform a rather good three point turn. But he told me that I had failed – on one thing only – not making sufficient headway (now called hesitation at junctions). He said I tended to be a bit timid. Clearly I had over played the giving way business. When my instructor got back into the car I was livid. When I drove us back to the driving school I drove with, perhaps, a little too much headway – those old minis can be very nippy when pushed. (I later learnt that it was not good practice to let a person drive after a test – whether they passed or failed).
My motorcycle was stolen in my second year at university and around the same time our student house lost the only car owner. I suggested that if people were okay with it I would buy a three-wheeler to take us into college. I could drive a three-wheeled car on my motorbike licence. I bought a Reliant Regal – the precursor to Del boy’s Robin. The gears were interesting – no synchromesh. I rather liked learning to double declutch each time I changed gear.
After driving my Reliant for a year I decided to take my car driving test again. Driving a four wheeled vehicle is much easier than a three wheeler so I only booked a couple of lessons in order to get the feel of the particular car to be used in the test. I lived next to the test centre so I had been able practice along all the routes the examiners used. The test itself was a breeze – I even had to do an emergency stop for real to avoid a car running through a red light. My reversing around a corner was even better – I was home free. Except I wasn’t. My examiner said I had failed because I had not taken sufficient notice of traffic signs. This was unnerving. I had had a sad relationship with traffic signs since I was a nipper. I am one of the few Europeans who can rank countries by their average sign per post quotient (on average Germany hangs the most signs per post and Britain the least). I can tell you in which country you will find the most energetic “roadworks ahead” sign. Or whether it is the girl or the boy which is taller in the school sign. No way could I have missed a sign. I drove around later with friends to find the sign that I could have missed or failed to observe. None could be found.
I bought a bicycle instead – that helped a little. It think the driving test is designed to be taken fresh – before one becomes too confident and sullied by bad habits. I had been driving for five years and they say you cannot teach an old dog new tricks. When I moved up to the great wen I did not need a car. I lived in Camden then Brixton, I used public transport or my bike. But I felt I needed to have a car driving licence. I hadn’t driven for a couple of years before my first test so I could be fresh – just like most learners. Unfortunately, within ten seconds of my setting off my instructor told me to park up and said “Are we at Brands Hatch?”. This time I took sufficient lessons so that the instructor felt I understood what was required of me to pass the driving test. This time it worked.
Where was I? Yes the new test is a step in the right direction. At the moment, a driver is simply given instructions “to turn left ahead” or “to take the third exit”. Not a real driving experience. In future they will be asked to follow signs to Gorton. One assumes that there will be a road sign to Gorton. This new approach is much more realistic. I would go one further and ask those undergoing the to drive to a location which is not signed. They will have access to a local street atlas but no satnav. That would be fun. But is it right? Map reading is a useful skill but not necessary to prove the ability to drive. Perhaps to be able to use a non-hands free mobile while following directions from a satnav is a more appropriate test.
Whatever they come up with I know I’ll fail it.
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