The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Once upon a time it was so easy . . . to pass driving test
A neighbour’s fraught endeavours to get a licence remind Fiona what an easy ride we older drivers had of it a few decades ago
The doorbell rings, which sends the MacNaughties into full barking frenzy. It always does. So I hurry to open it. Holding back a bouncing Cocker Spaniel with one leg. Grabbing a yappy Norfolk Terrier with a spare arm.
Standing there is our neighbour. She looks crestfallen. Yet again, the poor woman has failed her driving test.
I offer tea and sympathy. But more than that is difficult. Because I wonder what on earth is going wrong.
After all, back in the day, it seemed so easy. My brothers and I each took our tests at the tender age of 17 – and each of us passed first time.
All it took was a bit of courage and a few shouty lessons from older male relatives. Now, it seems becoming a king of the road is a much more tortuous affair. It is a quest that involves blood, sweat and tears.
It can mean anti-stress medication and will most certainly involve expensive hours with an expert.
Driving tests were introduced in 1935. And two thirds of candidates sailed through first time.
In those early days, of course, traffic was no doubt less manic. And cars and roads were certainly less complicated.
Standards were also less exacting. We did not have to sit a written exam. And whoever heard of health and safety in those days?
My mother took her test in the 1950s. She was living in Africa at the time and all she had to do was to drive around six giant-sized oil drums on a disused airport runway without knocking the things down.
She passed with flying colours. And later came back to the UK to scare other motorists. Having only driven on dusty bush roads she had little idea of speedlimit signs and parking bays.
Yet how many of us would pass today’s test after decades on the road?
I like to think I am a reasonably safe driver. But a few years ago I was filmed doing an advanced driving course. The instructor was clearly terrified – and told me so in no uncertain terms.
All those bad habits. Two serious faults, several minor. I did not pass.
This is our neighbour’s fifth attempt at becoming a fully-fledged driver.
She tells me it was all going swimmingly until she was told to follow a series of satnav instructions. Proving you can obey computer orders is a new and recent burden for the trainee motorist.
All it took was a bit of courage and a few shouty lessons from older male relatives
But you can see why it is on the agenda. We are all becoming increasingly addicted to the things. Map-reading is oh so yesterday. Which is a blessing for some girls.
Anyhow, the robotic voice told her to continue straight ahead at a roundabout. Which she duly did. Going partly over the central reservation, instead of round it. Nerves, dear girl. Nerves. We have another cup of tea. We laugh a bit. She cries a bit. She then rallies and gets on the phone to book herself in for another go…