Writing for a car magazine without a driving licence is like playing with Mega Bloks instead of Lego: there’s still plenty of fun to be had, but you will always have this niggling feeling that you’re missing out on the real juicy stuff.
In my defence, it’s not a good time to be a learner. As detailed in this week’s issue of Autocar (8 February; ‘It’s L out there’), various factors mean it’s not just prohibitively expensive to learn, but also nigh-on impossible to find an instructor with availability.
So it is that I find myself learning to drive five – six by the time I’ll have passed – years later than I ever wanted.
In truth, starting now was pretty fiscally irresponsible, but I couldn’t shake the sense that I had to get going. One payday later – and perhaps buoyed by the unconscious spirit of self-improvement that comes with a new year – I was lucky enough to find a local instructor with availability the following weekend.
Join me in this column over the coming months as I review my experience hitting the road, from the very first lesson to (hopefully) passing my tests and finding my first car.
Friday 10 March 2023: Progress is swift, but booking is still luck of the draw
Having had my ego battered and bruised by my first two hours of learning to drive, I’m pleased to report swift progress.
The evening after a tricky first lesson, I binge-watched a series of YouTube videos in which other first-time drivers hit the road. I felt a pang of sympathy for these learners, what with their plight being shown to the world and capitalised upon.
Let’s call it a public service broadcast and save ourselves from the guilt: as it turns out, operating a tonne of potentially lethal machinery on tight roads is as difficult as it is terrifying for everyone, at first.
Relieved, I go into my next lesson with a fresh approach. This is a skill that I will use for the rest of my life, so there’s little chance that it will come naturally. Even reading and writing take years to pick up.
This more relaxed mindset – and a switch to some thinner, lighter trainers – pays dividends. No longer am I trying to fumble the pedals with peg legs, nor steering with oars; I actually have some feel for the controls and their tolerances for the first time.
Lowering my seat is also illuminating, giving me the bent knees needed for finer adjustment of the pedals. Braking becomes smoother, throttle application is more consistent and the neck-snapping bobbing induced by my shoddy gearchanges is dampened – if not quite completely mitigated just yet.
Of course, some anxiety remains. Much to the ire of my instructor, I like to wait a few moments after main-road traffic has passed the T-junction I’m leaving, just to be sure there’s nothing coming.
Somehow, I’m yet to annoy other road users enough to elicit a beep. There is one Vauxhall Corsa – rocking tinted windows, smoked tail-lights and a 4D numberplate – that swerves into oncoming traffic to overtake me, but it’s nothing that a dab of the brakes and a couple of swears from my instructor won’t shield us from.
