I failed my driving test last week.
I kinda expected too, but I won’t deny I’m a little disappointed. I have big plans – and by big plans, I want to go back to physiotherapy regularly, visit my mum more, maybe even try Pilates (for the expensive stretching), maybe go to Archery on a Friday or start swimming again.
I knew what I’d done wrong as soon as I’d done it, and I got two major faults (instant fail) and 5 minor faults (you can have up to 15 if you get no majors). Since I’ve failed nearly everyone I’ve met has said they failed first time too- the first time pass rate in the UK is 48%, so again, not overly unexpected especially when you consider that I have rubbish depth perception, can’t drive a manual car and none of my family are particularly good drivers.
None of which is a surprise.
I tried to learn in a manual car, I did a few lessons but quickly realised that I can’t do it. My driving instructor thinks I may be dyspraxic. Funnily enough, my sister and my nephew are both dyspraxic.
I just couldn’t do gears, steering and remembering which is left and right all at the same time. Given that I can’t not steer or turn left or right, the gears had to go. The depth perception and proprioception mean I’m really struggling with parking, but I think I can nail it eventually. I really struggle with reversing though, there is something about going backwards that really short-circuits my brain and it’s taken me months to figure out basic reversing without even thinking about reversing around a corner or into a parking spot.
None of my mums family – including my mum – are particularly great drivers. Neither on my dad’s side. My dad might have been a good driver? I’m not sure, he developed epilepsy when he was 20 and had his license taken off him. He always used to say he hadn’t lost his license, because he knew exactly where it was – In the DVLA in Swansea. This didn’t stop him from driving though. He would only drive if he felt okay – i.e if he felt like he was going to have a fit he wouldn’t drive, which was not reassuring as a child because I knew his seizures could just appear without a trigger. He’d tell us not to tell out mum (they were divorced) and I know he’s been stopped and arrested a couple of times for driving without a license. Usually he says it was an emergency and he was driving my nan to hospital, but that rarely got him out of trouble. I know because I’ve been with him when he’s been to pay his fines.
My grandad had no feeling in his right hand after an accident cleaning a glass door that saw him nearly lose his hand (I won’t describe the injury but my gramps did often enjoy explaining to just how bad it was). This mean though he couldn’t drive any more (though he was still riding his bike well into his 70s, however wobbly he was).
So my nan did all the driving.
My nan was a terrible driver and could not park at all. Not even to pull up into a bay or by the side of the road. She learnt to drive in the Army and they taught her to drive ammunition trucks. Well, they don’t teach you have to park ammunition trucks, they teach you how to stop them. She never learnt to park. We would go places pull up next to a parking spot and then we’d all get out of the car and my dad would park. Dads parking was great – probably because of all the practice.
And despite my mum asking is if my dad drove and us saying yes and her not actually do anything about it, she wasn’t any better of a driver.
My mum wasn’t a great driver either and also had terrible luck with cars. She nearly ran over the postman once and almost drove us all into a bridge trying to avoid hitting a Polecat in the road. She ran over a rock in the road thinking she could go over it and tore up her undercarriage. Her exhaust fell off at the top of the lane and she didn’t notice until she got to the bottom of the lane. She once came into the shop when I was working saying couldn’t find her glasses. She was wearing three pairs – on on her face, one on her head and one around her neck. It was none of those, she couldn’t find her driving glasses. She had driven down to the shop.
She knocked over the village postbox once.
And didn’t tell anyone.
It was the talk of the village for months because it took Royal Mail forever to come and replace it and everyone had to go into the shop to leave any letters they were posting. A couple of years later we were driving past with her in the car and she commented on how they finally replaced the postbox she knocked over!
She used to drive us from Wales to Coventry, 140 odd miles, several times a year. At once point she would do it every other week. All that practice and she never got any better. Except for sneaking out the wrong way from the service stations because it was easier than going to the long way round.
She also lost her car once. It wasn’t even a big car park, one level, open plan, maybe 100 cars? She couldn’t find her car. So she walked to the police station to report it stolen. The police officers found her car – where she had parked in, in the car park. They were very nice about it apparently. She bright an orange car the next year so she wouldn’t lose it again.
This was all before the dementia set in.
My sister’s highlights include getting a ticket 3 days in a row for driving in a bus lane (and then not getting the tickets because she’d moved out and not updated her address) and backing into a managers car the day she was offer the opportunity to do her nursing degree via work.
None of my aunts are particulary good drivers, I don’t think their dad – my paternal grandad – ever got his license (though, he often gave my mum lifts to work in various vehicles (including once in a digger). He’s listed as a mover on my mum and dad’s wedding certificate but I think that’s the best description they could come up with for someone who didn’t actually legally work but did “move” a lot of things.
It’s not really a surprise I failed the first time. And, given my family history, I’m not sure I’ll pass the second time either. But like they say, if you first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, try, try, try again.
