Learning to drive--again

I've begun the frustratingly bureaucratic, somewhat terrifying and ultimately humbling experience of trying to get a British driving licence.

I passed my American driving test 14 years ago, and the whole experience--while the obvious epoch in a 16-year-old's life--now seems like a lovely walk in the park compared to doing it in Britain. At the time making two trips to the Arizona DMV to get my permit (I'd forgotten my birth certificate the first time) and waiting in line a few hours seemed like a big deal. But I passed the permit test easily and, after my parents spent several patient months teaching me to drive on our old Chevy Cavalier station wagon, I passed my driving test one very hot Arizona summer's day with only one small infraction (forgetting to signal when beginning to parallel park). In fact, I did everything so carefully and expertly that my pudgy, red-faced instructor, uncomfortable in the car on a 115-degree day despite the blowing air conditioning, told me I was a fine driver and to hurry up so he could get back inside. I walked out an hour later with my new driver's license in hand.

There is no doubt about it...getting one's driver's licence (yes, that's how they spell it here) in Great Britain is much, much harder.

While Americans are allowed to drive in the UK on their U.S. licenses (yes, that's how we spell it there) for one year, after that they need a British driving licence. I've decided that it's time for me to conquer this next hurdle of living abroad, especially since I'm being given a car in a month's time. At first I figured it wouldn't be hard to get a new licence...surely they allow some sort of transfer and an easier test if you have an American license, right? Nope. I have to start at the bottom again, just like any 17-year-old English teenager learning to drive for the first time.

That meant filling in a provisional licence form and sending it off, along with passport, photos, and, of course, a hefty check. It came back two weeks later, along with a host of instructions. I can only drive with a fully licensed, experienced British driver supervising me. That's fine, I understand that. I have to affix special "L" stickers to the front and back of my car so everyone knows I'm a newbie. Slightly embarrassing, but OK. I need to take a tricky theory test, booked at least a month in advance, costing another hefty fee, and apparently equal in scale to the SATs. All right, it's booked and I found someone to borrow study materials from. Only after passing my theory test will I be able to book my practical test, and it could take up to three months to get an available slot, I've been warned--and I don't even know yet what hefty fee this test requires. Only 42 percent of applicants pass the practical test the first time around, so hiring a private instructor who'll teach you what the examiners look for is highly recommended. It was at this point that I finally cracked.

"Do you realize that in Arizona you take both tests the same day, that you walk out of the DMV in an afternoon holding a driver's license?" I sputtered. "Do you realize that I have been driving for 14 years with experience in all kinds of weather in all parts of the country, including one of the nation's largest cities? I know I need to learn the rules of the road here, but why do they make it so hard?"

"Because," said one of the colleagues listening to me rant and rave, "they don't want everybody to drive."

And there you have it, one of the fundamental differences between Great Britain and the United States. America is a land of roads and distances, cars and drivers. Getting your license when you turn 16 is as much a part of life as ordering a drink when you turn 21. But England is a land of trains, buses, cycle paths and pedestrian streets and, while it's succumbing more and more to the unfortunate commuter and homogenous retail-park culture so prevalent back home, it's a still a place where one can get along without a car.

In fact, I've often loved not having to worry about driving in the 18 months since I've moved, and I do plan to continue cycling to and from work each day (petrol costs alone are a big deterrent to stay on the bicycle). But it only makes sense as I consider the future that I get my British licence, especially so I can make use of the marvelous gift of a car, especially when I want to get out of Nottingham. Many of my friends have their driving licences, but many do not, and they don't really care if they never do get one.

This is why yesterday afternoon I could be found gripping the steering wheel tensely as rain poured outside and a wonderfully patient and kind Brit re-taught me how to drive a car with a manual transmission, as unlike many Americans I can drive a stick, or at least I could last time I tried, eight years ago. Yet he also had to show me how to drive a manual on the other side of the road with different signs, symbols and rules, all the while warning me what the driving examiner will look for.

"Don't cross your hands over when you turn the wheel," he said. "Pass it through, keeping your hands at 10 and 2 all the time. That's right, ease off on the clutch, find the biting point and -- [insert shudder and jerk as the car stalls] -- OK, maybe you should just try that again. Right, now try accelerating down this empty road, getting it up into third gear... hands, hands, hands! Did you check your mirror when you indicated? Look the other way when you reverse, Steph, and stop crossing those hands. And--arrrgghh! Curb, curb, curb! Don't drive into the curb! Remember you're about two feet to the right of where you used to sit, you need to make a mental adjustment as to where the car should be."

I was tense, scared, trying desperately to remember everything and adjust long-held habits, and suddenly feeling like I was 16 all over again, yelping in apology whenever I stalled the engine. By the end of our little session, though, I was beginning to feel more confident and remember that I am an experienced driver. Still, as I handed the keys back and took a deep, shaky breath, I suddenly found myself very relieved that it is several months until my practical driving test. God bless the British bureaucracy.