It’s the mid ‘80s and I’m wearing a pair of pink corduroy dungarees. In front of me, my mum is beaming from ear to ear, dangling a pair of car keys. She has just passed her driving test, after numerous attempts. She is ecstatic.

Fast-forward 14 years and it’s my turn. I hated every second of learning to drive, but my mum was convinced it was something I needed to do, refusing to let me wait until my mid 30s before getting behind a wheel.

I can still remember the day I passed my driving test. I hadn’t slept a wink the night before, tossing and turning as I envisaged the awful scene to come. I imagined a scary driving tester with a clipboard, a total mind-blank and a frightening loss of brake function. I was terrified.

On the morning, I had a lesson directly before my test. My instructor made me breathe into a brown paper bag as I got a bit hysterical (never one to over-react *cough*). Later, I was sitting in the stuffy test centre waiting room trying not to hyperventilate, when the walls started to close in on me. It wasn’t long before I found myself getting intimately acquainted with the test centre toilet bowl, being reminded what I’d had for tea the night before.

During the ordeal I attempted to engage my tester with small talk. That lasted all of five minutes when I couldn’t remember my left from my right and decided to shut up. Halfway into the test I was asked to pull over.

“In a few little while I’m going to bang the dashboard and say STOP,” said the tester. “That’s my indication that I want you to perform an emergency stop for me, do you understand?” I nodded, then immediately forgot the plan. When he suddenly shouted “STOP” a few minutes later, I screamed. Convinced I’d run over a cat, I started to cry.

Unsurprisingly, the test finished pretty quickly after that. And, amazingly, I passed. First time. It was a miracle. When he told me the results I jumped out of the car to give him a massive hug. He looked relieved to step out of the passenger side and even more relieved to be out of my hysterical clutches.

I will never forget that day. I’ll also never forget the entire day I spent trawling the (very basic) internet and ringing companies to compare car insurance a few years later, when I eventually owned my very own car. Suddenly I was grown-up with a new sense of independence.

And that independence? It’s still here. I am totally reliant on my car to get to work every day and to escape our little village if I want to take my toddler on adventures in the afternoon. Without wheels I would be isolated and frustrated, having to rely on an hourly train service to take me anywhere.

So, thanks Mum. I’m glad you made me do it, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time.

Can you remember the time you passed your test? Was it awful?

**

Disclaimer: Please see my disclaimer page for more information about commercial content.