paul learned the lesson of “he who hesitates is lost” in the Spring of 1991.

November 1991

Year 11 at Launceston College had been a tough year. My self esteem was low (see related story), my anxiety was high because of exam pressure, and I was socially isolated. My parents had moved house from George Town in the middle of the year, and I was now living in Mowbray. I was physically much closet to College but I was now dislocated from my friends, part time work, and all the familiar things about my home town that brought me comfort.

A healthy distraction that year was the pursuit of my drivers’ licence. I had one 50 minute ‘Driver Ed’ lesson at high school the year before, but that from memory was shared with a buddy, and then the car was out of action and we never got another go. So it was up to my Mum to mentor me in our automatic Ford Falcon. I highly appreciate the time Mum dedicated to this endeavour. She would take me out to the K-mart car park and we would do laps and laps of the vacant space of an evening or weekend. But I wanted to secure my manual driver’s licence and that required some time in a manual vehicle.

As I became more confident out of the car park and on the open road, Mum and Dad resolved that they would purchase a ‘Learner’s Package’ from our car insurer, the Royal Automobile Club of Tasmania (RACT). This was my birthday present, gifted in advance. Five lessons and three class based theory sessions. I planned to complete them all before by 17th birthday at the end of November.

To say my RACT driving instructor and I didn’t get along would be an understatement. The patience Mum showed while I was learning was not present in this new dual control environment. This instructor would regularly take over control of the car from the passenger seat, and express her frustration at my conservative driving. On the second lesson, the instructor asked me to drive the RACT vehicle from the car park. I was still getting the hang of changing gears, and the coordination to perform a hill start was yet to be mastered. Nevertheless, when I was taking an inordinate amount of time to turn right out of the car park across busy George Street, she instructed me to stop the car. I did as she asked, and we swapped seats. She asked me to watch. She proceeded to find a gap in the traffic and take off – with a front wheel squealing under the speed of acceleration. She turned to me and said, “he who hesitates is lost young man!”. I smiled politely and reminded myself that I had accumulated the grand total of 45 minutes driving a manual car.

The RACT theory lessons had their place. They were intermingled over the few weeks of my scheduled practical lessons. On a Tuesday afternoon a small group of 16 year olds would gather to hear about defensive driving and basic car maintenance. At the first lesson I took an interest in a girl seated at the other end of the board room table.  She had a long fringe covering the right side of her face, and barely looked up the entire session. I recognised those introverted traits. Shy, like me, she did not answer any questions or seek to draw attention to herself. Like me, I sensed she was there through obligation, and couldn’t wait to get out and slip back into anonymity. She was the first to leave the room at the end. At the second lesson, by chance, the same girl was seated opposite me. I was much closer this time and recognised her face- at least the half that wasn’t covered with perfectly straight hair. It dawned on me, this was Abbie, my Grade 3/4 girl friend, from South George Town Primary School. We had actually “slept” together, well, with our sleeping bags head to head and holding hands at Lottie’s birthday slumber party 7 years earlier. Abbie had left the school after a period of ill health. I was devastated when I learned that she reported had cancer and I never knew the outcome. But here she was, right in front of me. I don’t recall any of the content from that lesson as I was too shocked to see Abbie. As per the previous lesson, she was quiet and withdrawn, she moved quickly to leave the moment the class ended. This time however, as she swang around to leave, I spotted her right cheek.  Usually covered by her long fringe, her cheek sported a significant red scar. I wanted to call out to her to say hello but I missed my chance, she was gone. The following week I arrived early to the theory lesson hoping to catch Abbie and re-introduce myself. But Abbie didn’t show. My opportunity had evaporated at the end of the previous lesson. Again, “he who hesitates is lost” was a hard pill to swallow. Upon reflection I was probably projecting my own feelings onto Abbie. I was the one that had acne and was pretty self conscious about the disfiguring cysts on my head. I was the one that wanted someone to recognise me and be happy to see me. I was the one that wanted to be liked.

Putting aside my surprise regarding Abbie, I used the practical and theory lessons to build toward my “P’s” test. Despite my instructor’s absence of empathy, I had one final lesson and then sat my formal driving test with an examiner on Friday 22 November 1991. It was 8.30am and drizzling with rain. My impatient instructor was in the back seat of the RACT car that I used to complete my test. The male examiner was in the front, and I followed his instructions to the letter. I stalled the car once in my three point turn attempt, but otherwise I believe I did a pretty good job. Mum’s teaching put me in a competent position, and the five lessons in a manual car were just enough to get the hang of gear shifting. Back at the Motor Registry Office the instructor turned to me and said, “you didn’t relax at all did you?”. At that moment I thought I had flunked. Then he announced with a wink, “You’ve passed mate, well done. Take care out there”. I was elated. I waved the RACT instructor good bye and offered my thanks to her. I completed the paperwork in the Registry Office and took my red paper provisional driving licence from the Officer like I was receiving olympic gold. It was also two days before my 17th birthday. Her parting comments were, “You won’t drive until Sunday now, will you?”. I smiled innocently. “Not a chance of that happening”, I thought as I nodded goodbye.

Postscript

Getting one’s drivers licence is a right of passage in young adulthood. It is so integral to accessing education and employment opportunities, social engagement, and just moving about the adult world (particularly in communities that lack public transport). I believe it is important for schools to support students to learn, and graduate with confidence and competence to drive, particularly those students experiencing financial poverty. Not having a driver’s licence (and a car) is such a barrier to participation in employment, education and training for young people from low income families. I believe we should explore lowering the age to legally obtain a full driver’s licence to 16 years old as per South Australia, and while we are at it, lower the voting age to 16 to ensure young people have a say on how taxes are spent by electing the government of the day. Smoking, drinking and gambling restrictions could still apply until people turn 18 years of age.