First Person: Memories of muddled motor manoeuvres

It was her 17th birthday recently and she decided that she would like some driving lessons on the day itself.

On my 17th birthday I went to see The Smiths, but whatever floats yer boat.

Like any parent, it seems like it was just a blink of an eye ago that she was starting primary school but there she was driving away on the same street that I had ran up and down holding on to her saddle when she was learning to ride a bike.

Upon her return she reported that she had enjoyed it, the lesson had gone well, though she did have “trouble with stopping”.

You have been warned...

I’d imagine that most in my position would cast their mind back to all those years ago when they too started their own driving lessons.

I didn’t bother because in my case I didn’t have to go back too far. I didn’t have my first driving lesson until I was 38.

Before then I had never had access to a car, nor any interest. In fact I still didn’t. I was totally reluctant in starting but having seen one job opportunity slip by because I couldn’t drive, I petulantly agreed that it was time to learn.

So the lessons were going along fine though I could never quite get the hang of going back down through the gears when slowing down, but not to worry, this wasn’t to be a problem for much longer when I packed it all in after I crashed our car.

We were visiting friends in the Borders and I took the opportunity to have a practice drive.

Upon arriving I turned into the courtyard where they live (makes it sound much posher than it actually is, honest), was going a bit too fast, missed the brake pedal and smashed into a parked car which in turn shunted into the one parked next to it.

Three cars damaged in one fell swoop. This guy doesn’t mess about.

One of the owners was understandably furious, the other was angry but soon calmed down and confessed that when he was young he had been driving along a country road so fast he’d lost control of the car, taken off Dukes of Hazard style and landed in a field. Put my little bump to shame.

But as our car crashed so did my bottle and it was the best part of a year before I could face the dreaded ordeal again, so this time I decided to make it easier on myself and learned in an automatic.

Much easier, less stressful and despite suffering one of the worst colds of my life, I passed my test first time exactly one week before my 40th birthday (didn’t drive again for over a year but that’s another story).

Oh, and I do realise that some of you will sneer Clarkson-like that an automatic isn’t “proper” driving, whatever that means. My haughty answer is that my car gets me to wherever I want to go and goes just as fast yours. So there.

So my daughter, level-headed thing that she is, will undoubtedly pass her test long before I did, but that’s not the end of it.

Two years from now her younger, zanier and far more accident-prone sister will be pratfalling her way to the learner driver’s seat.

You have been warned...