Most of the time cheating is frowned upon, but a quarter of all driving tests in Britain are now taken in automatic cars and apparently that’s fine. The trend is only set to continue, too, as more and more people pretend to care about the environment to take advantage of this loophole and obtain a driving licence without the slightest concept of clutch control. It’s absolutely outrageous, not to mention completely unfair.
I spent hundreds of pounds being taught to drive properly, in a manual, only passing on my second attempt, because mastering a gearstick is hard. Copping out and taking your test in a glorified fairground dodgem isn’t just shameful, it’s basically fraud. No matter what it says on your certificate, you can’t drive, you can just steer and brake. A monkey could probably be trained to do it.
Figures from the Driver and Vehicle Standards Agency show that 470,000 of the 1.8 million individuals who took driving tests in England, Scotland and Wales last year were cowardly scaredy-cats who opted for automatics. Emma Bush, the managing director of the AA’s driving school, said the skill of operating a manual car was becoming ‘irrelevant to many’. She may have a point – almost a third of the cars on our roads are now automatics, up from 16 per cent a decade ago. Automatics began accounting for the majority of new car sales in 2020, and by 2022 they made up almost 70 per cent.
There will be some who’ll attribute this to the UK’s forthcoming 2030 ban on the sale of new petrol and diesel cars, as electric vehicles are automatic. But does that really mean it’s OK for young drivers to be deemed roadworthy without ever having changed gear? Taking your test in an automatic is much easier, because it’s not real driving. How could you possibly feel any sense of accomplishment passing this way? It should be mandatory for new drivers to learn how to use a gearstick, otherwise it’s like endeavouring to bake a cake without knowing how to turn on the oven.
When I passed my test, aged 18, it really meant something. It was a rite of passage, a challenge to be overcome, and it had taken blood, sweat, tears and all my weekend waitressing wages. I had truly earned it. I was taught the hard, expensive way that shortcuts don’t work: I first tried to rush the process with a week-long intensive course, which culminated in the practical exam on Friday afternoon. There were no guarantees obviously, but they heavily alluded to the fact it would be unusual not to pass. I had failed before I left the test centre car park.
It should be mandatory for new drivers to learn how to use a gearstick, otherwise it’s like endeavouring to bake a cake without knowing how to turn on the oven
Realising my error, I booked weekly, slow, methodical lessons with Harold, an instructor with decades of experience and nerves of steel, which he would need. When my long-awaited triumph finally came, I shrieked ‘HAROLD! I PASSED!’ through tears of happiness, and he didn’t even flinch, let alone smile. ‘I would not have submitted you for the test were I not confident you were a competent driver,’ he replied. Buzzkill, yes – but a great teacher-slash-miracle worker too.
Automatic drivers are not only scamming the system, they’re robbing themselves of an incredible achievement. When you first put on your L-plates and get behind the wheel, you can’t believe you will ever be able to do it. There’s so much to think about, all at once; so many levels of multi-tasking on top of each other that it feels simply impossible. And then, eventually, there’s a magical moment where it just all suddenly clicks. You’re driving. You are at one with your vehicle, wo/man and machine in perfect harmony. Your stalling days are over, you sense the biting point almost on autopilot – mirror, signal, manoeuvre is part of your soul. It’s joyous, beautiful, and means that you are now free. No longer prey to the whims of the public transport system, or having to beg family and friends for lifts, you can come and go wherever and whenever you like. Truly life-changing.
Imagine having stolen that incredible gift. ‘Driving’ around knowing deep down inside that it’s all a sham, that your licence is pretty much as fake as if it were a forgery. Shame on you, automatic drivers. Your least favourite part of being in your cars is presumably when you accidentally catch your reflection in your rear-view mirror, because then you have to look yourselves in the eye.
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