Ninja Driving Update

At last, at last, at long "&*!+ last.

         I have been given the go-ahead by my local IAM group to take the test. It's all in the works at the moment, but I will finally be taking the test and, if I pass it, I shall get what my mother always called a sticky-foot to prove it.
          Things moved quickly once I was given a new Mentor, Mike. An interesting man, Mike. A retired company director, he designed and manufactured components for oil-rigs. He volunteers at his local hospital, has been a racing driver (as a hobby, I think), and has a pilot's license. At the moment, when not at the hospital or helping people like me, he's learning to drive a bus - 'I always wanted to drive a bus.'
         My last mentor was a retired para-medic, whose tales of thrills and spills in an ambulance entertained me hugely. I'd recommend the IAM course to anyone, but I think especially to writers. You meet such great people, with stories to tell.
         Mike is a terrific teacher too - he says he's spent his life managing people and trying to bring the best out of them. The practice has made him very good at it. My first drive with him was for assessment, and I was feeling a bit weary of the whole thing, since I didn't seem to be making any progress. At the end of the drive, Mike turned to me and said, "Well, that was wonderful! Much, much better than I'd been led to believe! If you took the test tomorrow, you'd pass it."

        This was a surprise, and immensely cheering. We have, nevertheless, spent some weeks practicing: joining and leaving motorways, reversing round left-hand bends, approaching and navigating roundabouts, three-point turns, parallel parking and reversing into marked bays. This last one, I have to admit, I'm still not very good at. Mike admitted that neither was he. "It's much easier if there are cars for you to reverse between." It is.
          I practiced commentary, which I enjoy now. It sharpens observation. You just call out the hazards you spot as you drive along. This really means calling out every single thing you see, since every damn thing, except possibly the pigeons on the rooftops, is a hazard. Lights red in distance - car coming up behind, lane 2 - junction to left, car - parked car, brake lights - cyclist - dog-walker - car reversing, driveway... I called out all the road-signs too, to circumvent the nasty little habit examiners have of suddenly asking you what the last three road-signs were. If you've called them all out, you'll have a better chance of remembering them, and you've already proved that you've seen them - so there's little point in quizzing you on them.
         Mike assured me that the actual examiner - a police driver - would not be nearly as demanding as the examiner I had to impress in order to be put through for the test. This always seems to be the case. It's harder, in my experience, to please an agent than a publisher. It's harder to please an audition panel than an audience. The real examiner would not be looking for by-the-book perfection, but only expecting me to show safer-driving, better car-control and  observation than the average driver.
          While we were driving, one day, a flash nit in a Porsche badly cut us up in his desperation to overtake despite the narrow road and on-coming traffic making this a very poor decision. He then had to crowd back in front of us because of oncoming traffic, braking hard to avoid running into the car in front. (He only had room to do this because of the safe gap I'd left between me and the car in front of me.)
          Reader, I remained calm, merely commentating, as I slowed,  that I was dropping back to let the big eejit have plenty of room. 
         From a safe following distance, we wryly observed the eejit's swerving and hard braking as he careered on, overtaking and cutting in, no doubt congratulating himself all the while on what a fine driver he was, and how he was showing up all us noddies crawling along at the speed limit.
          Mike said, 'If this had been your test, I can guarantee that character would find the Police at his door by the end of the day.' Seeing my puzzlement, he added, 'Your examiner will be an acting Police Officer. He don't let that sort of thing pass.' So beware, flash eejits in Porsches. You never know when the little Micra you cut up is taking part in an Advanced Test, and the passenger is the Polis.

          Came the day of the Pre-Test Run. This was my third. And, I passed it! Finally.
         I knew exactly what speed I should be doing at any time, and kept to it. In the motorway section, I got up to 60 on the slip-road, and slotted smoothly into the traffic.
         I kept up a commentary on the traffic in front and coming up behind, and remembered to say 'Lane One and Lane Two' instead of 'slow lane' and 'fast lane' (which is a no-no. There is no 'fast lane.' The speed limit is exactly the same in all motorway lanes.) There was no lane Three, since this was the M54, with its concrete slabs, like driving over corrugated iron.
          I overtook a lorry, first checking traffic coming up behind me, and looking over my shoulder to make sure nothing was lurking in the blind spot. On passing the lorry, I used the off-side mirror to check that I could see the entire front of the lorry before moving back in front of it, without slowing down.
          I signalled at the three hundred yard sign, waited until I was fully on the slip-road before cancelling the signal, and brought the speed down to the new limit. "That was lovely," the IAM examiner purred.  Which was nice. And a change from his usual remarks.
         I think there are only two  - maybe three - 'Stop' signs in the whole of the West Midlands, and the IAM examiner makes sure that he takes you past one of them. Last time I failed to spot it, even when he guided me round in a circle for a second go. This time I spotted it from the top of a steep hill, and said (commentating):

"Stop!" I came to a dead halt at that sign, put on the hand-brake, and counted, 'One elephant, two elephant, three elephant, four elephant," in my head before releasing the brake and going on. (When it was safe to do so, of course.)
          When we got back to Mike's, after I'd been given the go-ahead for the real test, he said, "Gimme a hug! Lovely! That Stop sign was lovely! By the book - you did it by the book. Handbrake - four seconds!"
          So, there we go. Next, I hope I'll be able to report that I'm a bona fide Advanced Driver.

Late breaking news. I've just been given a date for my test - the real one. It's a week today, on the 13th.

Ninja Driving and other things

     A friend asked me, a while ago, how the ninja driving was going.

Institute of Advanced Motorists

     Well, it's still going. Which is a bit vexing. I feel I should have passed by now.
     My driving has improved enormously. I've reached that stage where I look back at how my driving was, a bit over a year ago, and feel embarrassed that it was so bad when I thought it was okay.

     I never went so far as to think that I was a good driver - but I thought I was sort of average. As Flann O'Brien would have put it, I felt that 'of all the nincompoops in the world, I was not the worst.' When it came to driving, anyway.

     Now I look back and think, well, actually, I was pretty bad. Inattentive. Careless. Hard on the brakes because I hadn't seen the need to brake until the last moment. Giving confusing signals. A bit hazy on road-signs, and therefore not picking up all the information and warnings that I could have done. And not taking in most of the information from the signs I did notice.

     Quick now: What shape is a Give Way sign?

     I had to attend a 'Speed Awareness' class the other day too, because I got caught speeding in a 30 zone. This was embarrassing, not just because I'm training to be an advanced driver, but because, at the time I was caught, I was actually trying hard to observe all the rules of the road, because I'm hoping to be given the go-ahead to take the advanced test soon.
     I was driving from home in the West Midlands to Cardiff, and spent most of the journey at high speeds on motorways. Leaving the motorway on the outskirts of Cardiff, I slowed right down to something that seemed ridiculously slow.

    After the motorway, 30 always feels like you could crawl faster on your hands and knees. But I was trying to keep to 30, because I was treating the trip as a practice run. Still, I wasn't watching the speedo closely enough because - Flash! They got me.

     Not that I'm making any excuses. Speed limits are there to reduce accidents and save lives. I broke the law, simple as that. I was grateful to be given the chance to take a Speed Awareness Class instead of getting points on my license and a hike in insurance.

     The Class was much more entertaining than I expected it to be, and really rather useful. It was presented by an ex-policeman - and he looked it. Tall, broad, straight, official hair-cut - you'd have spotted him as an ex-rozzer from the other end of the street.
     (I've just had to stop to look up that interesting word, 'rozzer.' - 'Slang, 19th Century, origin unknown.')

      He gave very good workshop, though. In fact, I was taking notes on his workshop technique as much as becoming speed aware.
      The point about speed and safety was driven home, as by a sledgehammer. What's the speed limit in the street where you live? Do you agree with it being set at that? - Those who lived in streets with a 20 or 30 limit readily agreed with him that it meant their families were safer.
         There were a few who lived on streets with a 40 limit, and he drew from them an agreement that it would be safer for them and their family if the limit was lower.

        So why, he asked them, were you speeding in other people's

streets? Don't the people who live there have families?
        Ignorance and carelessness were no excuse. If a driver killed or injured one of your family members, would you be happy if their excuse was, 'I didn't know it was a 30,' or, 'I hadn't noticed I was doing 40?'
       Of course, no one could honestly say that.

      The instructor showed us graphs and statistics, which demonstrated how rapidly the likelihood of death rises, in the pedestrian/vehicle interface, above the speed of 30. It's a steep curve. Even a mile or two an hour extra means far more severe injuries, and far worse 'insults' to the brain when the car-flung person hits the tarmac with their head.
       He invited us to contemplate our car hitting 'little Mary' who has run out unexpectedly from behind parked cars. We were asked to imagine a car travelling at 40 striking her with its bumper, and the injuries that would cause... Her being tossed up onto the bonnet and smashing the windscreen... And then either being flung to one side, to scrape her flesh across the road surface, or being catapulted over the roof and flung several feet down the road, landing on her head.
      What was the likelihood of her surviving? We looked at the graph. They weren't high.

       What excuse were we going to make to her parents? 'I was in a hurry.' - 'I didn't know it was a 30.' - 'I didn't know I was doing 30.'

      The class proved useful for Advanced Driving training, as we were taught a 'fool-proof' way to recognise a 30 mile an hour area. It's also sharpened up my ability to spot those speed signs.

     So where am I with the ninja driving? Well, my ever-patient ex-paramedic mentor says, "There's been immense improvement, Sue. We'll have another couple of run-rounds, and then I'll see about arranging another pre-test." - Because the IAM won't put you in for the real test until they're certain you can pass it.

     This will be my third pre-test, which I don't feel is a good sign. The problem is, as soon as it's a test - even if only a mock-one - all my certainty deserts me and I start questioning my every decision - and usually making the wrong choice.
     The secret is to cultivate an, 'I don't give a damn,' attitude and just drive. Then I'd probably pass, The difficulty with that is, I would rather like to pass, so I do give a bit of a damn, and it's that that gets in the way.

     What shape is a Give Way sign? - It's the only sign on the British road that's shaped like an inverted triangle. All other warning or advisory signs are upright triangles, with the single point at the top.

     And the fool-proof way of recognising a 30 limit? - If you're a better driver than me, you probably already know.
     If there's a lighting-system installed on the street - that is, three or more lamposts - and no other speed signs at all - then it's a 30. No ifs, buts or question.
     Doesn't matter if it's a broad, inviting road with open country on one side, or few houses... If there is a lighting-system and no other speed sign, then it's a 30. If it's a 20, or above, there will be a big 'gateway' sign to tell you, and small repeaters. If there's none of them - it's a 30. I feel much happier now I've grasped this.

     I also came away with permission from the ex-rozzer to drive in third-gear in a 30 mile limit - it's the only way to drive a modern car at 30, he said. A conclusion I had already come to - but I keep having to argue it with my IAM mentors, as they insist on saving petrol by 'driving in the highest gear conditions allow.' I can now insist on 3rd at 30, and quote an ex-rozzer at them.

Stop! Stop! - For God's Sake, Stop!

 Or: Another Ninja Driving Update

          On the 1st December I underwent a 'pre-test trial run' for the Advanced Driving Test. The last time I did this - several months ago - I was dreadful. I think it fair to say that I drove worse during that hour than before I started the IAM course. This was partly due to the brain-crash of trying to change old, ingrained habits and partly to sheer nervousness.
          So I wasn't looking forward to this second go, despite knowing that I had improved considerably. And within the first ten minutes I was told, "If this was a real test, you would just have failed." That was because, at a road-junction I 'totally paused' (as the girl says in 'Clueless',) checked that the way was clear and sailed on in fine style. Which is what you're supposed to do at a Give Way.

          Only it wasn't a Give Way - it was a mandatory 'Stop.' You are legally required to stop at one of them, and the IAM test requires that you put on the handbrake - just to prove to the examiner that you know you have to stop and you have stopped.
          I didn't. And a bit later, I did it again. (The examiner having cunning guided me round to another Stop sign, just to see what I would do.)

          Further on, I overtook a slow moving VW on a dual-carriageway - with mirror-checks, over the shoulder checks, signals and all - and then found myself holding up a big 4x4 that was close behind me (trying to climb into my boot.) So I checked mirrors, signalled, made sure that I could see the whole of the VW's front in my off-side mirror, and moved over to the left. Seconds later, the VW I'd overtaken a minute earlier overtook me.
          "Why do you think the VW overtook you?" the examiner asked, in that calm, expressionless way they ask pointed questions.
          "Because I was too close to it when I pulled over?"
          "Because  you pulled over and then slowed down," the examiner said. "So you left him nowhere to go and he had to overtake you."
          Shortly after, he said, "You used a variety of lanes on that roundabout."
          "I know," I said. "I've been mentally kicking myself ever since."

          He burst out laughing. "First time I've heard that - mentally kicking yourself! I didn't think you'd noticed."
          "Oh, I did. Believe me, I did."

          I was keeping up the required commentary. "Brake lights coming on in the distance - slowing down... Roundabout, preparing to stop, looking to go - Traffic lights, check mirrors, clear behind... lights changed, but I'm too close to stop...Pedestrians, with dog - cyclists - car turning round in that side junction...Garage forecourt, may be vehicles pulling out... Slowing because coming into residential area, lots of parked cars..." And so on.
          I reversed around a left-hand bend - first remembering to look into the road I was going to reverse in, and to observe other traffic around me. (I waited for one car to get well clear.) The reverse itself was pretty good, as even the examiner admitted. I've done better when alone - closer to the kerb throughout, more controlled - but still, it wasn't bad. (Thank the Gods he didn't ask me to parallel park! I've watched videos on this, and practiced whenever I can find other cars suitably parked. I can do one perfectly and then, two minutes later, make a complete pig's breakfast of another. The secret, I think, is in firmly applying the 'one full lock' - no more and no less.)
         At one point the examiner announced that he was 'presently' going to ask me to name the last three road signs we'd passed. I inwardly groaned... But he never did. Whether this was because I sang out the road-signs as part of my commentary, or whether he simply forgot (which seems unlikely), I don't know.
          We drove on a variety of roads - though not motorway. We turned onto country lanes with tempting 'National Speed Limit Applies' signs. Commentating, I said, "National Speed Limit, but I don't know this road, it's wet and covered with wet leaves, there are lots of bends and high hedges limiting my view, and there's no way I'm doing anything like 60 here." I heard a grunt of approval from my left.
          On some dual carriageways, though, with little traffic and a long, clear straight road ahead, I block-changed into fifth and went for it. ('Block-changing' means going from second directly into fourth, or from third into fifth - and changing down in the same way - when speed and conditions allow. And NSL on a dual carriageway with barriers down the centre is 70, unless otherwise signed. On other roads, 60.)
          We arrived back at the examiner's house much sooner than I'd expected. As seems to be the custom, he asked me, "How do you think that went?"

          I said, "A hell of a lot better than the last time we did this, but I still failed on observation and exceeding the speed limit."
          He took me through all my failings again. "You failed to stop at two 'Stop' signs. With speed, you were on the button at forty and over, but where the limit was thirty you were usually doing somewhere nearer 38. Now you might get away with that once on a test, but more often than that and you'll fail. Don't choose a gear unless you intend to use it. Stick to your lane. There was that roundabout where you wandered about - and in another place, I asked you to turn right and instead of turning sharply inside the lane markings, you went too far forward to make the turn and then had to loop back."
          At this point, I was gripping the wheel, inwardly seething and mentally kicking him.  I don't take criticism well - I only pretend to.
          Then he said, "There were good points. We covered a great deal of ground in a very short time!"
           "Thanks," I said, though gritted teeth. "A back-handed compliment."
          "Well, put it another way," he said. "You certainly weren't hesitant. You certainly 'maintained progress' - and within bounds, that's good. I've driven with people who come up to an empty roundabout with no one in sight, and they stop dead at the give-way line and look all round before creeping over. And I've driven with others who find it hard to force themselves to drive over thirty miles an hour - which doesn't seem to be a problem for you. Forcing yourself to drive at thirty occasionally would be nice. - I quite liked your commentary. - Most of the time you had a lovely flow at roundabouts. - I have to agree, a great improvement, and I think there is a severe likelihood that you may pass this test. With a little more sharpening up."
           My usual mentor, Brian, had been quiet as a mouse in the back all this time. (And in justice, it should be said, that Brian has been patiently telling me for weeks that I have to stop at 'Stop' signs and put on the hand-brake, even if only for a second 'just to show that you've stopped.' But it hasn't penetrated my skull.) Now Brian piped up and said, "Another couple of weeks, then, Sue, and we'll book another drive with Jeff here."
          "Another couple of weeks and then the test, I think," Jeff said.
          So there you are. So close... If I can learn to recognise a Stop sign when I see one.
 

Note to self: they look like this

          At least all this driving has helped me solved the problem of what to buy Davy - the Scot who always wants a Christmas present, 'because it's good to have a wee something to open on the day,' but doesn't actually want anything. And doesn't drink, or smoke, or eat sugar, and is more fussy about clothing than anybody I've ever known. And dismisses almost anything else as 'daft.'
           I reported on my driving progress and he was chuffed, because he bought me the IAM course as a Christmas present last year. I said, "How would you like a skid-pan session?"
         "Ooh, Susie, that would be expensive."
          "I know it would be expensive, Davy. Somebody has to get the economy moving. Would you like it?"
          "It certainly sounds adventurous."
           Which is as near to his saying he'd like it as I'm ever likely to get. So I've gone ahead and booked a skid-pan session for two at a knock-down price. A His-and-Her day out, driving a car and skidding it. (There's no fear that this blog will spoil the surprise. He'll have forgotten by Christmas Day, and he never reads what I write here.)
          I need the skid-pan practice too - it was skidding on the M6 and writing off a car that led to me taking an Advanced Driving Course in the first place. Which I might pass if I can just remember these,