In the Sixth Form, learning to drive has always been the subject of much conversation. The pleasure of freedom, the ability to drive anywhere, anytime and to destinations far and wide across the country is liberating. Learning to drive, on face value, is almost certainly a thing to look forward to. And you do look forward to it – until you actually get into the lessons.
I remember my first lesson very clearly. It was cold, grey-skied and dreary – typical British weather. I tentatively entered the driving instructor’s vehicle, thinking “please, God, don’t let me plow down a pensioner” and reminding myself “it’s mirror, signal and, if necessary, evasive manoeuvre.” During my first lesson, I managed to stall the car five times, which was quite an accomplishment considering the car was fitted with anti-stall – a device which supposedly cuts in to prevent stalling. At first, this didn’t seem like such a problem. However, once the lesson had come towards its grand finale, the car decided it would be a marvellous idea to stall at a downhill junction. Consequently, it trundled out into oncoming traffic in near torrential weather, at 40 mph. Needless to say, I looked like a duck in distress as I flapped around, desperately trying to restart the vehicle, whilst the driving instructor gave me a constant look of despair. This look quickly changed to a look of alarm, as a 4×4 Range Rover emergency-stopped just four metres from the car to prevent a full scale decimation of myself and the instructor. Just when things couldn’t get worse, on the way home I had to perform an emergency stop on a country lane, due to a maniacal tractor driver engulfing the entire road and half the field next to it.
As a learner driver, one of the first things you’ll be wondering is what car you’ll be learning in. Most people think of a little Polo or a Golf, possibly even a Corsa. The discussion comes up frequently both with friends and family. People kept informing me they’d be buying little 1.2 litre and 1.4 litre city cars, due their fantastic economy and excellent reliability. So, when it eventually got to me revealing what car I drove, they were all a bit shocked. Yes, I drive a 2.0 litre Ford Mondeo. I know what you’re thinking: putting a learner driver in a 165bph car is a bit like putting Joey Essex at the controls of a nuclear power station – things are bound to go bang very swiftly.
But that doesn’t make it extremely fast. It may have a 2.0 litre engine, but it’s incredibly heavy – coming in at nearly 2.2 tonnes fully loaded, it’s twice the weight of a Vauxhall Corsa. It leans every time you go round a corner, it has incredibly heavy steering, when the air conditioning is on it’s like being coughed on by an asthmatic mouse, the boot seems to only release when it wants to, in order to speed, you need to radio down to the coal room, the interior is as bleak as a Swedish police drama and it possesses the same luxury suspension you get on a Vietnamese wheelbarrow. It has, therefore, been given two nostalgic nicknames: “The Great Pudding” and “Titanic MK2.” Needless to say, these nicknames aren’t at all worrying for my passengers when I shout “come on you Great Pudding!” or “leaning!” every time I accelerate onto the A14.
Whilst piloting HMS ‘Great Pudding’ around the tranquil lanes of Bury St Edmunds, I have begun to notice things that seem to be deliberately aggravating me. As learner drivers, we are bound by the rules the Highway Code sets out before us, and most of us are highly inexperienced in dealing with certain situations. So, as we are inexperienced, this paves the path for people to take advantage and tailgate me, in the hope I will eventually “get a move on.” There is absolutely no reason, particularly on dual carriageways, why other drivers need to be riding up so close when there is a perfectly good outside lane.
Bus and truck drivers are also incredibly annoying. The fact that they are carrying much heavier loads and have a much bigger surface area means that most truck and bus drivers assume they are Lord God Almighty. This makes them incredibly unpredictable, with lorries and buses pulling off when they like, not when it’s safe.
Wildlife poses an issue. When driving down a desolate country road, there will always be a kamikaze pheasant who believes it’s a marvellous idea to run out in the road, just as you’re trundling down it at 50 mph. Somehow, they expect a two tonne vehicle to miraculously decelerate in less than two metres, just for them to merrily cross the road. Feathery beggars.
However, my biggest annoyance is slow drivers. People, particularly little pensioners in hatchbacks, will insist on driving 20 mph, no matter the speed limit. Not only do they drive so slowly that they’re being overtaken by wildlife, but they make learner drivers such as myself look like F1 speed demons. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Unless you’ve got a fundamental problem with your vehicle, you should never be allowed to drive at those speeds. If pensioners want to drive ruthlessly slowly, it should be done at a time when the roads are empty, not at rush hour, when people are rushing around desperately to get to Tesco for chocolate McVities to have with their evening brew.
The Sixth Form Journal 