It has been 10 years since I last stalled a car. I was 18 and drifting across several lanes of an A-road roundabout while my driving test examiner gripped his seat. It was my second attempt at taking the test and my brain had turned into sweaty spaghetti. As I casually cut in front of an HGV, the examiner gasped and demanded I take the next exit. I mirrored, signalled and manoeuvred, found a safe space to pull up, and promptly stalled metres from the curb.
I failed – of course I did – and didn’t get back in the driver’s seat in a hurry. I finished school and went to university, always deferring the prospect of booking another test. Years passed, priorities shifted, and even though I kept telling myself that driving is a scourge on the environment, a decade of scrounging lifts from my friends and family has taken its toll.
After one too many nights standing in the rain waiting for the bus, I decided it was time to get back behind the wheel. On a blindingly sunny but bitterly cold autumn morning, I emerge blinking into the light to meet my new instructor, Vikram. I find myself feeling more nervous than I expected as he starts the car. Are people staring at me? Do they think it’s embarrassing that I’m learning so late?
He begins by taking me through various safety features with the help of a laminated picture book. I want to tell him that I know all of this already, but I soon realise I actually never knew how to open a car door properly (using the arm that is furthest away from the latch, known as the Dutch reach). After what feels like an eternity of animated diagrams and looking into assorted mirrors, I get behind the wheel, fire up the engine, get into gear – and stall. But Vikram reassures me this is to be expected and, over the next five minutes, I cruise around the block.
Despite my approximately 10mph speeds, I return home exhausted yet full of adrenaline. When I meet Vikram again a week later, I am fizzing with fear and excitement. This time, I’m in the driving seat immediately, but the level of concentration needed reduces my communication to a pre-verbal gurgle.
I am merely a recipient of Vikram’s calm instruction now, nervously taking him on a slow journey to nowhere. Yet, surprisingly, I don’t falter; I’m in third gear and I feel I could take myself anywhere – as long as Vikram and his dual control pedals were there, too.
I keep driving for at least 45 minutes and, despite a police car following us down several streets, it’s a success. I am frustrated that I left it so long before trying again but pleased to be back, giving it another go. Vikram assures me that “smart drivers take less time to pass”, so I should be able to take my test again after only a dozen or so lessons. I’m not sure how much I can buy into that flattery yet – mentally or monetarily – but I feel more sure now that there is a time for everything, and that perhaps 18-year-old me just wasn’t ready. In that spirit, I am re-booking my theory test for the new year, with dreams of driving myself to see friends far and wide by this time in 2022 – without stalling at the first roundabout.