Half a lifetime ago…

Come with me, I’m off on a meander down memory lane again 🙂

It’s 17 years ago today that I passed my driving test. Not quite precisely half a lifetime ago as I was 17 1/2 but pretty close.

I was always desperate to learn to drive and for a long time had an ambition to learn to drive a bus or a HGV too, hey, maybe one day I still will. I used to have a recurring dream as a child that I was in the driving seat of a car going along and road but didn’t know what to do to make it drive, steer, stop or go. The nightmare part wasn’t the driving, it was the not knowing how to do it.

So as soon as I could I got my provisional licence through and I was off. I was I was adamant that I wanted to pay for my own lessons though, I had in my head that it was a life skill and one which would take me places and I wanted to do that on my own rather than it be something my Mum would take credit for – I could picture her saying ‘of course we put Nicola through her driving lessons…’ so for my 17th birthday when they were all geared up to pay for a course of lessons I asked for a tv in my bedroom instead, with teletext and funded the lessons myself. It took 6 months and I think I had about 20 lessons. It didn’t come easily and I was keen to be ready to pass rather than try endless attempts as some of my friends did and suffer the upset of failing. My driving instructor was called Andrew and was very sweet, we used to chat about all sorts of things while I was having my lessons in his little red Peugeot 205. My test date came through for Wednesday 12th June and as you probably already know I don’t like Wednesdays. This didn’t seem sufficient a reason to change it though so that morning having ignored the advice of friends to wear a miniskirt, my parents to wear a suit and worn my usual ripped jeans, DMs and tatty jumper I had a half hour lesson before the test and then on to the test centre which happened to be across the road from my sixth form anyway.

I had just bought my first car -a bright yellow mini which cost me £450 and almost as much again to insure it and had one brief drive in it with my Dad who clutched the edge of the seat throughout and told me I was destined to fail the test but should view it as a good practise ready for the next try.

My highway code knowledge was dire, the examiner was very dry and gave nothing away so it was almost a complete shock when he turned to me at the end of the test and said ‘I’m pleased to tell you you have passed’. I walked back into the test centre, chucked the keys to Andrew and told him he’d have to drive as I’d be far too giddy! He dropped me back to my parents’ resturant where everyone was incredibly chuffed for me and probably quite surprised given my parents expectation of failure.

I remember sitting in my little mini later that day and feeling the most excited I’d ever felt before. To me this was the key to freedom, my own car that I could drive all on my own anywhere I liked. It was my first ‘official’ possession with a log book and all sort of proper paperwork in my name like insurance documents, all paid for by me and my own little domain that no one but me had the keys to. I’ve still never lived on my own but I imagine it would be like an extension of that feeling I had for my own car, mine all mine!

I do recall certain dates every year when they come round, various birthdays of people, some of whom aren’t even in my life anymore. Anniversaries of events; some good, some bad, some largely irrelevant now but still etched in my brain when I see that date on the calendar. 12th June is one that always makes me think ‘oh that was my driving test date’ and come next year I’ll have been driving for over half my life.