Theodore J. Gillam
‘Avoidable roadkill. The Elephant in the room’
Theo asks what makes a good driver, and what makes a bad one, too…
Im a crap driver. I don’t mind admitting it. I am rubbish for all sorts of reasons, like rarely being able to park the wretched vehicle squarely inside those white lines painted on the ground; I’m unable to consistently judge other motorists’ intentions, resulting in extra milliseconds taken at junctions as my low-grade brain slowly creates algorithms for likelihood of death; and due to a fundamental psychological dysfunction, I can’t allow myself to consciously drive faster than the speed limit, which curdles great ire in other road-users. It’s got to the point where I honestly wouldn’t mind relinquishing my licence for a nice bowl of muesli because driving’s no fun anymore.
There are many ways to define ‘good’ when it comes to driving, though: it could mean being able to double-declutch a crash gearbox without the mechanism’s machinations making you wince; or drive in a circle faster than anyone else; or being able to pilot something with major system deficits, such as a constipated idle-circuit, a knackered battery, or a slipping/permanently engaged clutch; or not frightening the bejesus out of one’s passengers; or reversing a trailer/caravan; or traversing snow/mud/lumpy bits without recourse to gnarly farmers and filthy tractor action; or travelling further on brake/clutch linings or a gallon of fuel; or never having sullied one’s licence; and of course never having collided with other road-users/ the environment. Oh, and being able to change gear without an elderly relative’s head nodding.
Safety first
When it boils down to it, driving for safety probably encapsulates most positive attributes. The thing is, once you pass your test, you’re pretty much left to your own devices to roam the Queen’s Highway armed only with a sense of privilege, a tin of congealed barley sugar, and an out-of-date road atlas. You learn to pass the test, and then, once the congratulatory balloons become flaccid, you learn to drive, as they say. Driving as a skill is then rarely considered. And road accident stats historically go unheeded. As we emerge from Lockdown 3.0, it looks like the weekly death toll in England and Wales (from all causes) is lower than any year since 2014, attributable in some small part by staying at home and saving lives, resulting in 20 fewer road deaths each week in 2020. 736 car occupants died in 2019, over 12,000 were seriously injured, and almost 32,000 road users overall were killed or seriously injured. But we don’t talk about that.
We're only human
There are lots of reasons why we crash into things, most of them fundamentally due to us being puny, flawed humans: not looking properly before making a manoeuvre (or looking but failing to see); not being able to accurately judge the speed and trajectory of others; being in a hurry, too gung-ho/arrogant or generally reckless; losing vehicular control and becoming a passenger; and drink-driving.
The latter is always a hot topic, but the other contributory factors appear higher up the list. Sadly, as feeble meat-sacks, speed gives us the horn, prolonged concentration is difficult, we’re hopeless at judging risk, and all the other operatives in their metal boxes are utter bastards. Car makers do their best to discreetly intervene with active safety systems, such as ABS and traction control; and passive safety systems such as seatbelt pretensioners and airbags for when things really go tits up – but only on more modern vehicles.
So, after some lockdown titivation of our classic cars, we may have avoided stabbing our groins with screwdrivers and our finger-count may still be in double-digits, but the most dangerous bit might be nipping out again for another smear of body filler…
‘There are many ways to define 'good' when it comes to driving ability’