Driving Miss Maisie

Driving ... it's a funny thing isn't it? I can't say I particularly enjoy it, but I wouldn't be without it. My car (who is named Maisie) enables me to get to places I couldn't and wouldn't otherwise go - she is a valued family member and loved by us all.

I've tried to work out how many cars I've owned in my life - hmmm, I started with a Mini Clubman (remember the 'estate' version of a mini,with doors at the back?) but have also had three other Minis, two Metros, a Fiesta, an Astra and now Maisie. So that's 9 in total - not many really. Mind you, I'm not someone who drools over cars the way some folks do - I've watched the odd episode of Top Gear and can concede that some cars are nicer looking than others but I really don't 'get' the passion that those guys (and it is mostly men, it has to be said) have for cars. If it goes, is a nice shape and a pretty colour, surely that's all that matters? ;-) Jeremy Clarkson, James May and Richard Hammond can wax lyrical on the merits of the motor car ...

"I should make it plain at this point that I still like fast cars. I like them to telegraph their intentions through the fabric of my underpants. I like them to be crisp and responsive and loud and powerful." ~ Jeremy Clarkson

... but I can't really comprehend their enthusiasm. To me, watching Top Gear is like watching three 10 year old boys let loose in a toy shop. And a few words for Richard Hammond here (not that he'll ever read this) ... that new 'look' you've got going on there seems gratuitously girly to me.

My dad taught me to drive - in a Morris Marina Coupé. To start with he drove up to an old airfield and spent hours teaching me clutch control, gear changing, and the rudiments of putting those two skills together with steering. The first time he let me drive home I was petrified - I think I probably pootled the whole way in third gear or lower, and can remember saying "Oh no! There are things coming the other way!" - but then I've never been afraid to state the obvious. Back then I worked at the same place as Dad so he got me to drive him there and back every day - it was the best possible practice. The guys at work were great too - they used to take me out driving at lunchtimes (I still think of a former work colleague called Ged every time I go from fourth gear straight down to second!) I only ever had two lessons with a 'proper' driving instructor - he announced I was easily proficient enough to take my test - so I did.

I took my driving test in that first car of mine - the old Mini Clubman. My driving instructor drove me to the town where I was to take the test, and parked outside the Test Centre. He had previously told me I'd be ok as long as I didn't get the older guy with the brylcreemed hair as he was a notorious male chauvinist pig who seemed to take delight in failing young women. I was pleased to see the chap meeting that description leave with the woman in front of me. My examiner was young, tall, and seemed altogether very friendly.

We went outside and he asked me to read various numberplates. He asked me some questions on the Highway Code and then got me to start the car and proceed down the road (which was a main street flanked by shops). We reached a large roundabout and he asked me to go all the way round it and come back up the same road we'd just driven down. This was my first clue that all was not well - that wasn't the route my instructor had told me about. After a few seconds, the examiner asked me to pull over to the side of the road (on a single yellow line!) I stopped, he said "I won't be a minute ..." got out of the car and went into a shop! :-O I didn't know what to think - my execution of the roundabout hadn't, in my humble opinion, warranted an abandonment of the test, but the evidence did seem to suggest otherwise. After a couple of minutes, he reappeared, offering profuse apologies and explained that he'd spotted a woman he'd just tested. She'd passed, but as he saw her on the street, he realised he hadn't marked the fact that she'd taken her test in an automatic, so needed that detailing on her paperwork. He'd run in the shop after her and made the necessary alteration, so all was now well.

After such an unconventional start to my test, I found I relaxed, and the remainder seemed to go well. I performed my three-point turn on a stretch of road on which a Boeing 737 could have comfortably landed. It was farcical - there I was in a mini and the road was huge. I did my reversing round a corner wonderfully, I overtook a milk float using all the right mirror checks, indication and gear changing. We arrived back at the Test Centre and he announced I'd passed. Hooray! My instructor whipped off my 'L' plates and told me to drive him home.

I've been driving eversince and I'm not even afraid of parallel parking! I can also 'road rage' with the best of them - I hope the pillock in the 4x4 who almost ran me off the road recently was a good lip-reader, I'd really like him to know exactly what I thought of him. Just because yours is bigger than mine, doesn't give you the right to drive on my side of the road, Sunshine!

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