09/09/2026
🚗 “I’VE DONE LOADS OF PRIVATE PRACTICE WITH DAD… I JUST NEED A FEW LESSONS BEFORE MY TEST.”
Famous last words. 😂
They get in the car looking confident because they’ve apparently done “loads of driving.”
Brilliant.
“I will give you directions you can showcase what you can do.”
Within approximately four minutes I realise the mirrors are purely ornamental. They’ve been included by Volkswagen to make the windscreen area look less empty.
We’ve turned left, turned right, changed position and passed parked cars, and not one mirror has been consulted. I’m starting to think they believe the rear-view mirror is exclusively there for checking whether their hair survived the journey.
Observations at junctions are equally adventurous.
We approach a Give Way and instead of actually LOOKING, we perform the famous Nose-Dive of Faith.
Half the bonnet is now in the new road before we’ve established whether anything is coming.
Apparently the safest method is to send the front of the car out first as a small reconnaissance mission. If nobody hits it, we’re good to go. 😂
Blind spots?
Never heard of them.
“What about checking over your shoulder?”
“Dad never told me that.”
Excellent. So for the last six months we’ve been changing position using the thoughts and prayers method.
If there’s a cyclist there, hopefully they’ll submit the appropriate paperwork before we move across.
Then I notice the speed creeping up.
32…
33..
“What’s the speed limit?”
“30.”
“What speed are you doing?”
They look at the speedometer like I’ve just asked them to locate Belgium on a map using only their elbows.
Apparently Dad normally tells them.
Ahhhh.
So Dad isn’t supervising.
Dad is the dashboard. 😂
Dad has become a fully integrated driver-assistance system.
“Slow down.”
“Brake.”
“Gear.”
“Car coming.”
“Watch the pedestrian.”
“Move over.”
“Second.”
“NOW BRAKE!”
Meanwhile the learner is essentially driving around with DadNav™, waiting for the next instruction.
Then I ask them to make their own decision and suddenly the car goes so quiet you can hear the insurance company getting nervous.
Now let’s discuss gears.
We’re approaching a junction at 19mph…
FIRST GEAR.
The car reacts like we’ve dropped an anchor through the floor.
Everyone bows towards the dashboard.
My handbag has entered the footwell.
A bottle of water has achieved flight.
The gearbox is underneath us screaming, “WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?” 😂
“Why did you select first?”
“Dad told me you have to go down through all the gears.”
Of course he did.
So every time we slow down we’re visiting every gear individually like we’re doing a pub crawl through the gearbox and nobody is allowed to skip a venue.
5th.
4th.
3rd.
2nd.
1st.
By the time we’ve finished, the traffic lights have changed twice, autumn has arrived and the junction is now available on Google Street View as a historical landmark.
Then we discover coasting.
Clutch goes down approximately three postcodes before the junction and stays there.
We are no longer driving.
We are tobogganing.
The car is just free-range now, rolling towards the junction under the supervision of gravity and Jesus. 😂
Then there’s steering.
Hands gripping the wheel like it owes them £400.
Knuckles white.
Shoulders somewhere around the ears.
We’re negotiating a gentle bend with the physical intensity of somebody trying to wrestle a crocodile into a wheelie bin.
“Relax your hands a little.”
“I am relaxed.”
ARE YOU?
Because that steering wheel currently looks like it’s about to give you the PIN number to its bank card.
Then Dad comes up in conversation again.
“Dad says I’m a really good driver.”
I’m sure he does.
Dad has also spent six months saying:
“GO GO GO!”
“NO, NOT YET!”
“BRAKE!”
“WATCH HIM!”
“SECOND!”
“CLUTCH!”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
…so Dad may not technically have been assessing independent driving. Dad has been remotely operating the vehicle from the passenger seat. 😂
Then comes my personal favourite:
“Dad’s been driving for 30 years and he’s never had an accident.”
There it is.
The unofficial British Advanced Driving Qualification. 😂
Thirty years without an accident apparently means Dad is now qualified to teach, assess, examine, redesign roundabouts and possibly take over the DVSA by Monday morning.
It’s a bit like saying:
“I’ve had teeth for 45 years, so obviously I can do your root canal.”
I’m sure Dad is a perfectly capable driver, but being able to drive and being able to teach someone to drive safely and independently are two completely different things.
Private practice is FANTASTIC. I encourage it whenever it can be done safely because the extra experience can make a huge difference.
But please combine it with professional lessons where possible.
Get your supervising driver to sit in on a lesson. Let them see what you’re being taught, what needs improving and how they can help without becoming a human sat-nav, speed limiter, gear selector and emergency broadcasting system.
Otherwise you don’t get 40 hours of driving experience.
You get the same five mistakes rehearsed for 40 hours until they’ve got their own postcode. 😂
Practice doesn’t automatically make perfect.
Correct practice builds good habits.
And if Dad insists first gear is required at 19mph…
Please give the gearbox my deepest sympathies. 😂🚗
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Sheena Ahmed
