After months of practice, countless cheeky remarks, and several near-death experiences, it has finally happened – I have passed my driving test.
Fasten your seat belts – quite literally – ladies and gentlemen, Wallace is on the road.
Painting the picture that I’m an awful driver isn’t doing myself any favours.
I actually drive reasonably well – only four minor marks on test speaks volumes.
According to my driving instructor, Iain (I recommend Henry Driver Training to everyone learning or looking to learn) I drove extremely well, and, if it wasn’t for the bus that I was stuck behind for the majority of the time, I would’ve probably driven even better.
I’m not going to lie, my heart sank when the examiner said: “I would like you to pull up alongside the car in front and perform a reverse park.”
I had my fingers and toes crossed for a turn on the road, but, nevertheless, that reverse park was the best I have ever done.
It’s quite unusual knowing that the next time I drive a car I’ll be on my own. I don’t think it’s quite hit me yet just how large a responsibly it is to drive an actual moving vehicle. I am in charge of my own car – a little Ford Ka, called Kit – and I need to take proper control of it without someone sat in the passenger side telling me what to do.
However, it’s time to bite the bullet. I am officially growing up, and being able to drive is the first step.
Now, it’s just a matter of plucking up the courage to do so, on my own, for the first time.