I remember learning how to drive at the K-Mart parking lot in Ozark, Alabama with my dad in a stick shift car. There was a lot of whiplash. There was a lot of holding the emergency brake up, and then gradually bringing it down as I found the right footing for the clutch and the gas.
I got my learner’s permit at 15 and my driver’s license at 16. I remember a short, written test in which I missed the question about whether to have your high beams or your low beams on in dense fog.
It was a pretty uneventful experience. I paid around $30, and voila! Licensed driver.
So I was surprised to find out about the rigors of autoescuela in Spain when I moved here and they wouldn’t recognize my U.S. driver’s license. I had to start from scratch. What that meant here is passing what’s called the Teorico, or theoretical exam, a medical exam, a Psicotechnico (psycho-technical exam), and a Practico, the practical driving test with instructor.
TEORICO
I enroll in Teorico, the classroom portion of autoescuela instruction, and attend every weekday for 3 weeks for one hour. Sometimes it’s only the instructor and me. She speaks very fast Spanish. I learn the words for clutch (embrague), horn (claxon), steering wheel (volante). My Spanish automotive vocabulary expands.
I meet a guy who has taken the exam 5 times. My eyes grow wide.
My American brain still think in terms of miles per hour which is replaced with kilometers per hour and meters of distance. As a novice Spanish driver, you’re obligated to place a large, reflective L suctioned to the back window of your vehicle the first year after you get your license. I’m not excited about this.
I have no idea what the psicotet
Passing the written test in Spain involves about 2 months of studying the material, a 3,000+ question bank and repeated online practice exams. My process involves taking (10) 30-question practice exams daily. I’ve not taken a test in Spanish since I was 9 years old living in Puerto Rico.
Slowly, the online system turns the test blocks from red (fail) to green (pass) day by day by day.
Test day arrives. Soon after sitting at my computer, I see the guy from driving school who’d told me he’s taken the exam 5 times. This must be at least his 6th time taking it. It may be the 8th! I send him silent good wishes for this to be the last.
That night, I log in to the city’s driving site to see my exam result. The word “Apto” shows up. I have no idea what Apto means. My husband confirms I passed!!! We can only miss 3 questions in order to move on. I miss…3 questions.
DRIVING SCHOOL
I just described the first part of the process. Next is driving school. Marina is my instructor. The first day is easy enough, though I’ve not consistently driven a manual car in years. She guides me to a part of town on the outskirts, sees that I can handle the car well, and goes ahead and schedules my exam for 3 weeks from that date.
Day 2 is a totally different story. Marina sits on my right. She asks me why I turn the steering wheel like that. Actually, she says it like this: “Que estas haciendo?? Pero porque haces eso??” What are you doing? Why do you do that? Elena communicates with her hands a lot. In the 32 years since I’ve been driving, I might have developed some bad habits. Like crossing one hand over the other when I turn the wheel.
I drive with her every weekday for three weeks. And she yells at me Every. Weekday. For 3 weeks. Our city is one of the most pedestrian-friendly and bike-friendly in Spain. Which means cars have been relegated to only certain roads. Drivers on these narrow streets must be on the lookout at all times for buses, trains, pedestrians, bikes, and scooters occupying the same streets as cars.
When I drive into the roundabout from a bus lane, Marina tells me, “If the examinadora sees you doing that, they’ll suspend you on the spot!” When I don’t see the traffic light that is right at my shoulder because I’m simply accustomed to seeing a light at my shoulder, she slams the brakes on her side of the floor board and repeats “If the examinadora sees you doing that, they’ll suspend you on the spot.” There are many suspension-on-the-spot threats.
The average amount of instructor practice driving time is about 30 hours for a novice driver. And about 1200€. For 18 year olds (the legal driving age here), that’s quite a bit of cash.
In between her getting on to me, sometimes we talk. She tells me she’s 4 years from retiring. She tells me about her 26-year-old son. She tells me that she sometimes teaches the women from the convent to drive. “I don’t like nuns,” she says. “Some are good people. But I’ve met many who are not nice. And what do they really do all day?”
Marina is tough. But she cares. She tells me that she wakes up in the middle of the night thinking that she’s forgotten to show a student a potential route the examinador might take us on.
I get lucky on the day of my test. The examinador is from out of town. He doesn’t know my city. He’s exceedingly nice. He tells me to drive at my leisure. I head out from our parking space forgetting to release the emergency brake. Uggh. First deficiency. I choose an easy route we’ve practiced. And at the end of 40 minutes, I’m told I’VE PASSED.
I feel like I just received my Doctorate in Driving.
I bear hug Marina. She’s happy for me.
Three weeks ago, I would have been reluctant to admit it, but she’s made me a better, safer driver.
I’m grateful for this big, reflective L.