Why It Took Me So Long to Learn to Drive
And why that’s okay
I haven’t driven in about a year. Not since the accident I had in Victoria, Australia. Lost control of a rental car on a country road in heavy rain. Aquaplaned. Then the car flipped on its side. Luckily, there was no one with me or on the road. Even luckier, I was completely fine, not a scratch or bruise. Unfortunately, the car wasn’t so lucky and had to be written off.
I have a long and complicated history with driving and learning to drive. Never owned a car and didn’t grow up around one either, so I’ve always had an outsider perspective on cars and driving. Metal cages on wheels trundling along, with explosions going off inside (pre-electric). People operating heavy machinery daily to get from A to B. High levels of concentration. Higher levels of risk. I didn’t get it or why it was so normalised.
I used to think to myself “surely there’s a better way to get around?” There was. Public transportation. Or cycling and walking. Obviously that all depends on where and how you live.
As a Londoner I was used to fast, reliable public transport, even out on the fringes of East London where I grew up. Being the suburbs most people had cars whereas in Central London a car would be one of the slowest ways to get around.
Central London is where I spent most of my time since my late teens. So I had no intention of getting a car. It made no sense practically or economically. I used the tube or walked everywhere. But I did want to learn to drive, everyone said it was a “useful life skill.” And everyone seemed to be doing it too. How hard could it be?
Very.
First attempt
I was 24 when I started. My instructor was a young woman named Katy, she had a small Ford Ka. She was a good instructor, calm and patient. We started on little side streets out by Goodmayes. Nice and slow, 10–20 mph. Easy going. Indicate. Turn left. Turn right. I got used to steering, changing gears and operating the pedals. All good.
I don’t like being watched while performing difficult tasks, especially ones I’m new to. Makes me self-conscious and nervous, feeling like I’ll make a mistake. Which means I’m more likely to make one. This then makes me more self-conscious and nervous, especially once I do make a mistake… But this was going fine, with no major issues. Knowing the car had dual controls was comforting too. I was safe. Nothing really bad could happen.
I also had a hard time following instructions and couldn’t multitask. Having to make decisions with so much going on, rapid context switching while trying to coordinate all the controls — steering, gears, pedals, indicators. I’d get flustered to the point of confusing left and right. I also struggled with spatial awareness, gauging the size of my vehicle and how far it was from other vehicles. All stressful, and a lot to keep track of at once. One small mistake and everything could suddenly unravel.
Driving was non-stop multitasking and context switching on the go whilst trying to pick up on obtuse social cues from other drivers. Confusing and scary stuff.
I’m almost certainly on the autism spectrum so this all lines up with my autism research. I knew nothing about that at the time.
It was all very frustrating. I was used to learning quickly. I could read books cover-to-cover in a single sitting or memorise huge quantities of information quickly. I could draw, paint, code and do many other things. I was used to being smart and this was making me feel like an idiot. If anything it felt like being back in PE at school, which I hated. It was humiliating. One of those things “normal people” did.
It was driving me crazy.
I was fine with the mechanical operation of the car. Driving on empty roads or doing manoeuvres. Single tasking. Checking mirrors, signalling, making a turn. But as it got more complex I was overloaded. As soon as I got on top of one situation, another one started developing. Especially when other drivers didn’t behave rationally and did unexpected things.
Roundabouts were the worst. I’d freeze up on the approach and then would need clear instructions telling me what to do next. My brain would just quit. Changing lanes, positioning, figuring out how to safely exit. It was all too much. I had similar problems passing cars on narrow roads, and figuring out who was going to stop. Was it them? Me? How do we decide? Flip a coin? How do I know where to pull in? I wasn’t able to plan ahead and got anxious as soon as I saw another car approaching.
25 hours of lessons later and it wasn’t going well. Still making mistakes or freezing up. I was fed up and decided to stop. There was no urgency to get my licence. Unlike other learners who had dreams of car-based freedom and independence, I had no such notions. That made it easier to quit. I did wonder if having a strong incentive or desire would have made a difference. It’s hard to stay motivated or focused on something when you’re doing it out of some abstract sense of utility.
Second attempt
I left it for a while. I was 26 before I decided to try again. It had bugged me, a sense of unfinished business. There was also the sunk cost of time and money.
My next instructor was a middle aged man named Billy. He had a Volkswagen Polo. It had been a couple of years and I was feeling ready to try again.
All the basics came back immediately. Steering, gears, pedals. Different car but the muscle memory was there. Unfortunately, all the problems were still there too. Following instructions, getting nervous when meeting and passing cars. Freezing up at roundabouts. That feeling of being watched and judged. Billy found it hard to hide his anxiety or exasperation. At times he couldn’t help himself and would start saying “brake… brake… braaaaake!” Even when I was already about to brake, foot on pedal, but he couldn’t help himself. I can still hear his voice.
One time I ended up on a narrow one way street going the wrong way. Billy said “okay, stop.” Then he helped me reverse out. We drove back. He didn’t say anything else the whole way.
I must’ve had about 40 hours of lessons with Billy in two-hour slots. Still not feeling confident or ready, I booked a practical test. I was hoping this would make it feel “real” and focus me. The theory test had gone fine, but that was nothing to celebrate. Simple memorisation of the Highway Code, road signs and markings. Stuff I was good at.
I was nervous about the practical test. Billy was nervous. I didn’t expect to pass. I didn’t feel ready.
I was right. I took the test. I didn’t pass.
I can’t remember exactly what I failed on but there were two serious faults. Luckily the examiner didn’t have to use their controls at any point or say anything during. So there was that. Small mercies.
Even expecting to fail, it still stung. Failure is never fun but it can be a good teacher. I didn’t seem to be paying attention.
I decided to forget about the whole thing. It was too much hassle and I’d spent a good chunk of my student loan on lessons. It wasn’t doing my self-esteem any favours either. It was downright depressing and I wondered why I kept putting myself through it. I was annoyed at myself.
I was done. Let “regular people” drive. I didn’t need it.
Several years would go by before I even thought of trying again. About eight years.
Third attempt
It was 2015. Enough time had passed. I was a different person. My life had changed drastically. I was doing well, better than I’d ever expected. I was living in Kennington and close to the centre. Money was no longer an issue, at least not in relation to the cost of driving lessons. I had an itch to scratch. Back to unfinished business. My self-esteem and confidence had increased tremendously thanks to finally living life on my own terms and all the new possibilities that had opened up for me. I was also just more generally focused, disciplined and resilient. Or “mature” I guess.
It was time. Come on you bastard. Third time lucky.
I booked an instructor with a local driving school. Daniel, a mild mannered and patient older man. This time it was a Vauxhall Corsa. We had early evening lessons after I got back from work. Two-hour sessions each week. We’d go around some of the side streets as a refresher and then head onto the main roads in Brixton and all the Claphams. Rush hour, so it was hectic. Cars, motorcycles, pedestrians and lots of cyclists. The roads were all 20 mph and I’d be going slower because of traffic. It was all in slow motion except for the cyclists. Even with so much going I could still take it in and respond calmly. Ironically being somewhere busier was more conducive to my learning. There was no one suddenly zooming by. No room to zoom.
I wasn’t stressed and was able to keep track of everything going on around me. Daniel was also a comforting presence, I didn’t feel judged. He was calm and gave good constructive feedback. He never seemed tense or acted as if I was about to do something wrong. If I did make a mistake he would wait until we could stop somewhere to calmly talk about it. Which also put me at ease.
My confidence grew. I was getting the hang of this. Roundabouts still made me nervous and I needed help getting into and out of them. A bit rough around the edges but this was the first time I felt like I could drive. It felt good.
I booked a test for the end of July 2015 after around 40 hours of lessons. The test centre was in Mitcham, near Croydon. I got there with Daniel. He wished me luck and left me with the car and the examiner. A nice friendly middle aged woman. I didn’t feel nervous, that surprised me. I’d do my best and see what happened. There was no pressure.
It was late morning and the rush hour traffic had died down. We started off at a leisurely pace. This far south of the city many of the roads were 30 mph, so a little faster than I was used to. It was much more like where I’d started learning the first time.
It all went quickly. Main roads, side streets, manoeuvres and then back to the test centre. A couple of minor issues were pointed out to me, including staying at 30 mph when a road had changed to 40 mph. Otherwise, I’d done well.
I’d passed! It hadn’t seemed like a big deal. Just a little drive around.
Jubilant, I headed into work for the rest of the day.
After 12 or so years and around 100 hours of lessons, I was a driver. I had done it.
Now what?
It occurred to me: the next time I got behind the wheel would be on my own. No instructor or dual controls. I was now fully qualified to legally operate a death machine. Madness. I’d been so focused on getting the licence for its own sake that I hadn’t given any thought to what happened after. It had become more about “unlocking the achievement.” Maybe that was enough. Who said I had to drive? I could just bank the huge dopamine hit and be done with it.
Of course, I couldn’t really. I’d come this far, now I had to get some real world experience and confidence on the road.
Experience
A few months later I tried that. A Zipcar for a couple of hours with a work friend in the passenger seat. I wanted an experienced driver there to make me feel comfortable. Just a little drive around Central London, I was living in Millbank at the time so we drove around Westminster and surrounding parts.
It went well. I was a little nervous and found it hard to hold a conversation while driving but no other issues. I was comfortable driving in the city at 20 mph and negotiating traffic. The real challenge would be driving at faster speeds out in the suburbs or in the country. So that’s what I did a couple of months later. A car rental from Gatwick Airport (airports are cheaper) with a different friend who lived in Surrey.
That didn’t go as well. I wasn’t used to driving at speeds above 40 mph and it made me uncomfortable. It all felt too fast. Other cars were zooming by too fast. My friend was a very experienced driver and that made me feel self-conscious too. I was drifting a little and on the narrower country roads the car was brushing against the verge. No damage but not good either, it was making my friend nervous. I’d put him down as an additional driver and later in the day let him take over. It was dispiriting to be back in this situation but I didn’t want to make any mistakes, especially with someone else in the car.
I was a city driver. That’s what I consoled myself with. Except there was no reason to drive in the city. So driving made no sense. I left it again.
A few more years went by. 2020 rolled around. Then the pandemic happened. Later in the year as lockdown restrictions eased I took a trip to the Cotswolds by train and stayed in lovely Stow-on-the-Wold. Looking into some of the other towns in the area I realised this was exactly the kind of place where a car would be ideal. Public transport wasn’t really a thing out there.
Confidence
Upon returning to London (I was in Pimlico at this point) I booked some refresher lessons. My instructor Omar was great. We went around Clapham and a few other areas. It went fine, although following instructions and being in that setting again felt odd. I was fine on the streets but lockdown restrictions tightened again and the lessons were cancelled before we could head out onto motorways.
That was a good thing because I hit upon a novel idea. Almost an epiphany:
Why don’t I just drive?
Just get in a car and drive.
There were lots of Zipcars around me. Get in one and go. So that’s what I did. Starting with an hour in Pimlico side streets on a Sunday afternoon. Getting comfortable with the feeling of being in the car by myself. That was the first time I’d been by myself in a car. I was surprised to find I was more comfortable this way, without someone there to distract me or to worry about. I was more focused on the road and what I was doing. It all felt real when it was just me, the car and the road.
That’s how I spent my Sundays in 2021. Go for a run in the morning and an hour or two behind the wheel in the afternoon. Building up my confidence slowly. One time I took a wrong turn and ended up going over Vauxhall Bridge. There was a little internal panic. “How am I going to get back?” I knew how to walk back but had no idea how to get the car back over the bridge. I hadn’t started using any kind of navigation system yet. I found a quiet side street to turn into and stop on the other side of the river. Checked my phone, found a way back over the bridge and felt much better.
After that, I started using navigation all the time. Google Maps, either via the car’s system or by putting my phone in a cradle. I never drove without navigation after that. I’d go where it told me to go. If I made a mistake and ended up in the wrong lane I would just follow along. No last minute unexpected lane changes. Just go where it took me. The navigation would always recalculate my route and I wasn’t in a rush.
Car sharing was great. Per hour pricing. No paperwork or hassle like a full day rental. On-demand, pay-as-you-go. As long as availability was good I wondered why anyone would own a car in a city. Unless the car itself was a passion — my best friend had a Morris Minor Traveller that he worked on.
Eventually, I was going all around Central London. One time I stopped in front of the police station by Covent Garden to check my phone and figure out where to go next, only to find a couple of plainclothes police officers banging on my windshield. I’d blocked their exit and they had cars trying to get out for a big raid. Sirens blaring. Oops. I drove off.
I drove up to Muswell Hill, I’d lived there for a year in 2014. I drove all around London. I drove to my mother’s place. Said hello. Drove back.
As I gained more confidence I looked for excuses to drive. I still hadn’t been on a motorway, so that needed to happen. The rules allowing learner drivers on motorways had kicked in after my time. I decided to visit a friend in Watford. Booked a car for three hours and set out for Brent Cross and the M1. The fastest I’d driven up to that point was probably 50 mph.
I got to Brent Cross but failed to take the correct lane to get me on the M1 and ended up on a main road at 40 mph. It took me a few minutes to realise I was not on the motorway. Motorways don’t have chicken shops. Turned into a side street and had a mini-breakdown for a moment, thinking how costly a mistake could be on an actual motorway and how everything could spiral out of control in a split second.
Then pulled myself together. Figured out how to get on the M1 and off I went. Got in the correct lane. Built up speed. Merged. And then I was going at 70 mph. Gripping the wheel tightly. A slight wrong move of the wheel at these velocities and I’d be a smear. It was like going to warp speed. I’d left the inner solar system. I was heading to Alpha Centauri. Experiencing time dilation. It felt like a very long time on that motorway but Junction 5, my exit, was coming up. Then I slowed down and turned off. It had only been about 10 minutes. Then it was roundabout after roundabout, but I was fine with them now. Who designs these silly conurbations?
The car felt so slow after warp speed. Crawling down to impulse speed for the Watford system.
I made it to my friend’s place. Spent a little time with her and her family but then had to head off, mindful of the remaining time left on the car and the drive back. Off again, this time much more at ease. I didn’t grip the wheel as tightly on the drive back and it all went smoothly on the motorway. Got home feeling very pleased with myself. I’d been on a motorway and had come back alive..
Emboldened, I took more trips outside London. Randomly deciding to drive to places like Leatherhead and back again. Why Leatherhead? Why not? Getting comfortable on dual carriageways and motorways.
Then something strange happened. I started to enjoy driving. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have kept doing it.
Late 2021 I finally had a car for a full day to myself. Planned a day trip from London to Stonehenge, Salisbury, Winchester and back again. I was very excited, I’d never been to any of those places.
It went great. 13 hours of driving interspersed with sightseeing and sausage rolls. Plenty of breaks and no rush to get anywhere. Finally, I understood what people meant by “the freedom of a car.”
I kept up my Sunday afternoon drives. Did a few other little trips too, and tried different cars, including electric. Electric felt right. Combustion engines always seemed like they belonged to another age, like steam trains.
I did a day trip to Rye and Camber Sands mid 2022 in a Fiat 500. I like small cars. They’re cute.
Going global
At the end of 2022, I left the UK on an open-ended trip around the world. My first destination was New Zealand, a country that can only be explored properly by car. I would be driving in another country for the first time! Knowing they also drive on the left put me at ease.
This was why I’d learned to drive.
I drove around the South Island for a few days. Exploring Queenstown, Arrowtown, Wanaka and other places. Drove up to Mount Cook on the one cloudy day that week and couldn’t see it. Went to the top of the Remarkables. Through tight mountain passes with steep drops — very slowly. Other cars would be backed up behind me and I’d let them pass when convenient.
In a hurry for no reason when returning the car to Queenstown airport, I tried to park at an awkward angle and scratched the bumper. That could have been avoided, I could have gone around again and found an easier spot. I had full coverage and it all worked out fine eventually. I will be more careful when parking in the future. There is never a rush.
I would drive again a few weeks later on the North Island, the longest I’ve ever had a car. A full week! I took several trips, the longest to Tongariro National Park to hike Mount Doom. Then onto Taupo, Roturoa and other places. I was doing 12-hour days of driving with plenty of breaks and no issues.
My base, a studio in Wellington’s Island Bay, was on top of a steep hill. and I’d have to be extra careful with the tight turns and many parked cars. I had a day or two of downtime and it was nice having the car to just drive into town, or to do shopping. It also made my runs easier, I could drive down to the bottom of the hill, run 10 km along the coast (there and back), get back in the car, drive to the New World supermarket and then back up the hill. I definitely missed that once the car was returned. For the first time, I’d had a glimpse of a suburban car-based lifestyle. Not the kind of life I ever wanted but I understood why a car would be indispensable in that setting.
I was proud of myself and how well I’d done driving around and exploring both islands of New Zealand. A younger me, struggling to learn to drive, would have found that almost impossible to believe. I’d come a long way. Driving went into my big collection of “things I never thought I’d be able to do.” It’s a growing collection.
After New Zealand, I had months of zipping around Australia and South East Asia, a place a week and no need to drive again. I slowed down in May 2022 and set myself up in Melbourne. July is when I drove again for the Great Ocean Road. But that’s another story and I’ve already told it.
The road ahead
That was the last time I drove. It’s been over a year. I’ve not had any reason to drive since. But there is a fear around the loss of control I need to confront at some point.
I’ve since spoken to many people in the autism community who have shared similar experiences and I am currently seeing about getting an assessment. This has all reframed my view on my earlier attempts at driving in terms of being kinder to myself. I wasn’t useless. I was just different.
Regardless of how much or how little I drive in the future, I have no regrets about the time and energy I’ve put into driving. The increased road awareness has translated to confidence with cycling. Since 2021, I’ve been zipping around London on one of the 12,000 or so Santander bikes, at one point daily. I’ve also cycled in many cities around the world, making use of cycle hire schemes wherever I found them. Singapore, Taiwan, and New York, to name a few. Never any problems. So driving has had residual benefits.
Driving is still hard. But I learned to enjoy it and I may do so again.
I can still hear Billy.
“Brake… brake… braaaaake!”
Shut up, Billy.
