I was wailing on about the final stages of gestation for Dau.II's to become a competent driver. On Monday last . . . just in time for tea, the key L → N fledging happened after a leisurely cruise around the mean streets of SW Waterford City. She had clocked up the mandatory 12 hours of lessons from a licensed instructor while still living in Cork in 2021. That should be enough to cover a) indicator + mirrors + clutch + handbrake b) getting going on a hill without stalling c) L-hand reverse round suburban corner d) 3-point turn e) general line maintenance e) not dawdling f) not lurching, gear-grinding. Thereafter, as much practice as you can get with parents should be able to smooth the experience out; internalize some of the muscle memory; and learn by not doing what other drivers do.
In different times and an adjacent country, I had 6 lessons in the Summer after I turned 17, + a final lesson from the same instructor immediately before I took the test in December. In that sense mandating 12 lessons is a bit overkill. I got my Massachusetts licence by showing my UK ditto and sitting a 10 question MCQ with a pass-mark of 7/10; it was easy to clock 100% and I was let out on the roads of North America.
Dau.II was insured to drive The Grape in February 2023 and immediately registered to take her test in Waterford asap. It took 40 weeks to get to the head of the line - hence the gestation metaphor. Having been assigned a date 4 weeks out, she contacted a highly recommended Tramore instructor and booked two hours with him to ascertain how far apart were her skill-set and the test's requirements. Not far, it turned out but only in The Grape! It was back to nappies in his car. But several times we managed the logistics of getting herself from Dublin; The Grape from the Home Place; and Damian in from Tramore . . . all to assemble in Woodie's car-park on the Cork Rd in Waterford. This is clearly The Place to change students in Waterford; there are always a handful of driving school vehicles.
We were all relieved (although not really surprised) that she passed. You cd take a fail on the chin if that didn't put you at the end of a 9 month wait-list. [WTF!]. When she came out smiling and waving her pass cert, I was very happy that taking the protocol seriously and not stinting the car-miles had paid off. We agreed that I'd drive home, while she txtd her news to a longish list of frends'n'relashuns. As we left town, she got her face out of the phone to say "You should be in 5th gear, no?" which she followed up with "I'm a peer now, innit?, I can tell you these things."
Gotta say, that when she was starting to drive, I was known to flinch as she skimmed the bushes coming round a country corner; and to wince when the gears crunched. But gotta say gotta say that I never worried about her going too fast: from the beginning she always notes and obeys the posted speed limits. It's restful and saves money. Other drivers please note.
Some old Compostella feet hands have been known to say When the road finishes, the Camino continues. Dau.II, smug in her pass, said something like
"Once you've passed the test, the life-long learning begins".
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