Motoring
LICENCE TO NIL
It’s driving-licence renewal time again.
When you’re 70, the DVLA cancels your licence and says you must renew it henceforth every three years, selfcertifying that you are fit to drive. You are invited to renew online at no cost, the form is straightforward and, in most cases, there’s no need to send a photo.
But the small print reveals that if you renew online, your new three-year licence qualifies you to drive fewer categories of vehicle than your old one, probably obtained over half a century ago.
You may, however, retain all the vehicle categories on the old licence if you renew by post, using a form that you have to request.
This requires certification by your optician and/or doctor that you meet certain medical standards, as if you were applying for an HGV licence. Certification is not paid for by the NHS – so you will have to cough up.
My old licence, obtained circa 1965/1966, qualified me to drive not only cars, vans and tractors (with trailers) but also medium-size lorries up to 7.5 tonnes and minibuses seating up to 16. If I renewed online, I would lose the lorries and the minibuses. The thinking is obvious: septuagenarians and their seniors might be more dangerous when driving hefty trucks or ferrying sports teams than younger drivers. Since very few do it anyway, they are unlikely to suffer by, or even notice, the removal of these categories. And, if they do want to keep driving trucks or minibuses, they can if they’re fit and pay for it. Last time, it cost me £52 because the GP is supposed to spend 20 minutes completing the form, which counts for two NHS consultations. In fact, it took him less than ten minutes since he didn’t have to do the optician’s bit and had only to tick boxes I could have ticked and take my blood pressure. I haven’t driven a lorry or minibus since, but nevertheless I’m taking the trouble to do it all again.
Why? Partly because I like lorries and want to feel I could drive one even if I don’t these days (though you never know when a heaven-sent opportunity might arise). I like them for their size, their presence, their purposefulness and their dignity. They’re usually comfortable, too, with their commanding height and visibility, big steering wheels and – for the back sufferer – that beneficial angle between knee and hip that ensures I can dismount without stiffness or ache, as I can from my Defender. If I could, I’d keep a 1950s Bedford RL in the back garden.
The other reason is obstinacy: I resent being deprived of the right to drive these things and should like to know the statistical basis for this stealthy removal. How many people over 70 actually do drive trucks and large minibuses, and what is their accident rate compared with that of younger drivers? Maybe the removal is based on sound evidence, or maybe it’s based on nothing more than an assumption. If the latter, it’s another piece of interfering legislation that should be done away with, or at least made free to pursue, like online renewals.
Of course, you could argue that lorries and minibuses cause more damage in accidents than smaller vehicles, and that anything that reduces this risk is welcome. Fair enough, but it’s a little odd that, by renewing online, I’m forbidden my heart’s desire, my lumbering old Bedford that would struggle to make 60mph and do only a few hundred miles a year. And yet I can be let loose for unlimited mileage in a 2.5-tonne, 200mph Bentley.
But this time I haven’t been charged (yet?) – so I guess I’ve no complaint.