Driving a vehicle on Britain’s roads is certainly a skill, which is why it seems perplexing that most people can do it legally. I only say that because as I’m writing this, it’s yesterday (according to this date stamp) and the view from my bedroom window is of the main road I live on. That’s nothing new, that’s just background, but the view at this current moment also includes a police car, followed by a tow truck upon which sits the battered body of a Ford Something-Or-Other with a bashed-in front bit and deployed, deflated airbags. Ahead of that sits the rear-ended flashing hazard lights of a Stagecoach Number 1 (or possibly 2) bus bound for Liverpool, except it isn’t any more.
Anecdotal evidence (i.e. I asked people) suggests that this collision took place some three hours earlier. The bus is empty of people. The car is also empty of people. The people have been taken away for medical assistance for what I hope to be minor issues, and I would also like to assume they recover well before the day’s out. The whole affair, however, serves as a reminder of the fragility of humans on the road and the potentially destructive nature of operating such heavy machinery without complete control, care or consideration. That very reminder also seems very stark when presented to a novice driver.
As of the present time of writing (still yesterday), I’m stuck in learner driver limbo of actually possessing the required knowledge and skills to be capable enough of driving a car, yet having been unable to successfully demonstrate that to a certified official who says who can and cannot possess the permit for it as well. Twice previously I’ve had the chance and – save for an individual, easily avoided or rectified mistake in each – could’ve convinced a driving examiner to give me the freedom I’ve desired over the last two years of practice.
Here’s the thing though, right… examiners are really harsh. Like, really. Really harsh. Like… okay, I know they have a job to do, and a very important one at that. They have the power to decide whether somebody can get behind the controls of a ton brick of metal on their own and let it travel at speeds man simply cannot achieve on foot. Not even Usain Bolt. They need to make sure that each and every driver on the road is capable of not posing as a danger to others, whilst also being capable of recognising potential future dangers and reacting quickly to reduce the possibility of any further risks. I don’t begrudge them that, that’s a vitally important role. But, like, really, they are super harsh.
I’ve heard that after passing one’s test, everybody begins to develop their own driving styles, rhythms and habits, and I’ve heard (and seen) most of those habits fly in the face of everything that’s considered correct by the proper officials. In a sense, it’s like teenagers texting each other “omg that woz like so ded eezy” mere moments after completing a GCSE in English Language. Or having several shots of tequila after you vowed to never drink again. The point is, people tend to go off-book once they’re able to. And I’ll probably be one of those people too so I shouldn’t really be complaining. But I am, because I’m not in the future like you. I’m now (Tuesday evening) and I’m still a provisional driver.
Since my previous attempts at impressing somebody in a hi-vis jacket in the passenger seat have resulted in failure, whenever I’ve been inside a moving vehicle with a qualified driver, I’ve picked up on the harsh little things that fully fledged examiners would gleefully mock with a red pen and the sneer of a cartoon villain. I don’t say anything (out loud), but I do internally muse over four words that burden me with the existential dread of living in an unjust world: “you’d fail for that.”
If most drivers on the road today were to drive completely under test conditions, virtually everybody would have their licences revoked, have their cars impounded, get taken to court, be given an unfair jail sentence and probably get told off by their mum. But that’s not how it works, so instead I have to sit back and watch as today’s drivers signal too late (“you’d fail for that”), stay in the wrong gear too long (“you’d fail for that”), speed up so as not to get caught behind an imminent red light (“you’d fail for that”) and change lanes at the last second (“you’d fail for that”). At least until I get to become one of them, in which case I’ll instantly switch sides like the no-good hypocrite I am. Next one’s in a few weeks. If I fail that, it’ll probably be December or something until I can get yet another test booked.
Let’s come back to now (last night) and update the situation. The scrapped vehicles have been taken away, and after a brief interlude of sweeping, Highway Maintenance have departed the scene too. If it wasn’t for the streak of nondescript fluid dumped from the broken back of a bus along the road, you’d assume nothing had happened. However, I’m left with the knowledge that an incident has happened, and I repeat my earlier sentiments to the driver and any passengers that I hope they’re well and recover from the afternoon’s events. Although I can’t help but feel the urge to point out that by rear-ending a bus on a 40mph road, resulting in your front grille, bonnet and internal engine getting squashed beyond recognition, you’d fail for that.
I hate discovering bands late. Finding out about a particular musician or collective is usually great, but my compulsive desire for chronology means that I usually have to start from the beginning. Sure, I just discovered somebody and I like what they do, but have they always done this? Or would it be best for me to go through their back catalogue and see the road they’ve taken to get to where they are now? I’m a bit messed up like that.
One such example is the electronic duo known as Lamb, which is a nightmare when you try to Google. Having stumbled across their sounds of two years ago, I’ve been in blind ignorance of what other bleeps and bloops they might’ve made before then. The female half of the duo has since spun off down a charming and folksy route with stuff like the below, which is nice for presenting the same vocals amidst a different backdrop of audio. As for the past, I’m still in the dark.
Lou Rhodes – All The Birds
Jamie Walsh 
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