Baby, You Can Drive My Car

I've been trying to get used to the idea of driving in England. It's something that Matt does all the time, but for some reason I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the concept of driving on the other side of the road. These days, whenever I'm in the car I try to imagine what it will be like. If I'm making a left-hand turn, what lane do I turn into? Who has the right of way on those weird single-track streets of theirs? What's the deal with roundabouts, anyway?

I know that it will take a long time for driving to feel as automatic and instinctual as it does over here. Still, I’ve resigned myself to the idea. Learning to drive in England is an absolute must. I can’t rely on Matt to be my full-time chauffer, so I’m just going to have to figure it out. Besides, learning a new skill is a good thing, right?

So, after a few days of mulling over the prospect of the English roadways, I started feeling more comfortable with the idea. Conceptually, it’s like facing a mirror image where everything is flip-flopped to the other side. I even got to the point where I sketched out a couple of little drawings trying to visualize how the new rules of the road will operate. Eventually, I got to the point where I started to face the prospect with steely resignation. I can do this, I thought.

Just when I was mulling over my silly little diagrams and thinking that I could conquer English driving, I was stricken by the realization of something I hadn't factored into the equation.

Not only do they drive on the other side of the road, but the steering wheel is on the other side of the car, too.

I’m sure this isn’t news to you. And, of course, I knew about that too. But in all of my visualization, I had completely spaced out that (very crucial) detail. I blanked it out. I honestly can't believe that it didn’t occur to me sooner. Now, I have to re-think the whole equation. Back to the drawing board, I guess.

I’m hoping that I’ll look back at this blog in a month or so and laugh at how worked up I was getting about driving. I’m sure it’ll all be fine. (It has to be, right?) They essentially let American tourists step right off of a plane and into a rental car with no instruction, training, or hullabaloo. So, how hard can it be? Still, it’s tough to visualize. Especially for a girl who already dislikes driving. (So much so, that I didn’t get my US drivers license until I was 20 years old.)

Speaking of driving in the UK, I’m really glad that we’re going to be in England for under a year. If we stayed any longer, Matt and I would both have to go through the process of getting an English driving license, and from what I understand, that process is exhausting.

Here’s the scoop:

Apparently, you can live in the UK for up to a year and legally drive with a US license. After a year passes, though, you’re required to obtain an English driver’s license. The process isn’t easy. It’s recommended that you take a class with a private instructor, which usually takes a few weeks and is designed to prepare you for the testing process. After that, you’re asked to pass a very thorough “theory” test on the rules of the road, and take a “vehicle test” which quizzes you about basic car maintenance. Lastly, you have to get on the road with a certified instructor to pass a practical driving test. The driving test and the written tests are so time-intensive that they can’t be scheduled for the same day.

The driving test is notorious for having very nitpicky rules that, if broken, constitute an “automatic fail” by the testing agency. For example, if you turn the steering wheel hand-over-hand (criss-crossing your own hands while turning the wheel, like beginning drivers are often taught in the states), it’s an automatic fail.

Each part of the process costs a hefty fee. The “theory” and “vehicle” tests costs around $50 each, and the “practical” test can run anywhere from 100-150 dollars depending on the type of car you drive and the day of the week you take the exam. Everything has to be booked in advance, and there’s often a long waiting period to be able to get in for the tests.

This is all second-hand information, so the reality of the process might not be as overwhelming as these details make it seem. Still, I’ve read that 60% of American drivers fail at least one portion of the English driving test and are required to take it again. (Every time you take the test, you have to pay the testing fee again.) That’s a crazy large number, so it must be significantly more challenging than the process we have in place here.

It’s not all bad, though. I can’t help but think that the British drivers are probably a bit better than American drivers, based on how thoroughly they’re tested before they can get on the road. The only car accident I’ve ever been in was when I was blindsided by a car that ran a red light and smashed into me. The car that hit me was driven by a sixteen year old driver who had just gotten his license the week before the accident. So, maybe more preparation isn’t all bad, especially for young drivers. Still, for someone like me who has already been driving for twenty years, it all seems like overkill. (Plus, it seems especially weird that they would already let a US citizen drive around for a full year with no training , and only then require testing.)

Long story short, I’m glad I don’t have to take the test. Still, I can’t help but think that I might need some sort of help before I hop right into the car and speed off down those single-track roads. Matt has volunteered to give me lessons, and I’m sure his calm demeanor will make me completely at ease behind the wheel. (Here’s hoping!)