Overcoming all obstacles

Are you sitting comfortably? I'm not. I'm sat, cross-legged, in a car park, in Harbour Road industrial estate in Inverness (it's a long story. One that I'm about to tell). Actually, it's not that uncomfortable, so I shall begin my epic tale of lust and one man's fight to overcome all obstacles.

My Fiesta is starting to get on a bit now. It's not much over a year old, but I have been racking up the miles. I have been leasing my last two cars and, perhaps understandably, the lease company aren't too happy with my mileage. So, it was beginning to look like the sensible thing was to buy a tuition car.
What car to get? I like my Fiesta. I liked my Clio. I liked my wee Fiat 500. I would be happy to get any of those. Maybe it's a defect in my personality, but, somehow, I knew they wouldn't quite suffice. Just as, no matter how much I love most of the music I have collected over the years, I always want something new.

There are some cars which are just achingly beautiful: The 1950s Mercedes Gullwing

, the Jaguar E-type

, the Alfa Romeo 8C

, AC Cobra (see below) and Ferrari Dino

immediately spring to mind. Alfa Romeo are also bringing out the 4C, which is possibly even more beautiful than its big brother

. All of these are more than slightly out of my league. And not really cars that I would be happy to let a learner driver loose in.

The world's your oyster, as Frankie (goes to Hollywood) once said (although I'm pretty sure they didn't coin the phrase). If I was to buy my own car I could choose anything I liked (although DSA regulations rule out a convertible and various other vehicles). My wife just traded her monster Navara pick-up for a wee Fiat Panda, which I think is fantastic - so easy to drive and park. It really would make a very good tuition car. And I also hear really good things about the VW Up and the similar Seat and Skoda versions. But.... I don't know. I guess I want something slightly bigger because, effectively, my car is my office. I want something I will be very comfortable in for ten hours or more. This still left me with a lot of choice, so I started looking.

Jordan admiring an AC Cobra

A couple of weeks ago I took my grandson, Jordan, to a classic car show in Forres. It was a beautiful morning and we had a great time looking at some amazing cars.

A beautiful Bugatti

What really struck me was how much character these older cars had. Some of the interiors looked really uncomfortable, some looked really naff, but some just oozed class and individuality - I particularly liked one Lotus which had a button labelled "cigar"..... Not a common cigarette lighter, a cigar lighter. Perhaps it was not a good idea to look at such cars when I was looking for a tuition car - it's a bit like the theory that it's not a good idea to go shopping in a supermarket when you're hungry - because it made me yearn for something different (no, I didn't decide I wanted a Lotus with a cigar lighter).
After quite a bit of research and searching I found a car advertised which seemed perfect. Just one problem.... It was in a garage in a village near Dunfermline -  Over 150 miles away. There was nothing else locally that compared, so I drove down to the garage for a test drive. Luckily, the car was everything I was looking for and more. They accepted my offer and the car was mine..... I just had to try and work out a way of getting it home.
So last Friday I had it all planned. Train ticket from Forres to Dunfermline (changing at Inverness) was bought, then I would have to get a bus or taxi to the garage. Simple. Or, at least, it should have been.
With hindsight I obviously should not have agreed to a lesson that would leave me just enough time to catch the train. A chatty pupil meant that I missed the train. No problem; I could drive to Inverness and make the connection there. I had fifty minutes to make a journey that should take forty. A tractor was holding up the traffic. Don't panic. The tractor finally pulled over. With Inverness in sight I could see the traffic ahead slowing to a halt. Roadworks. No, no, no! If I didn't catch the train there wasn't another one that would get me to the garage before they closed. After what seemed an age, the lights changed to green. I got to the car park with five minutes to go. I just had a couple of minutes walk, through the shopping centre, to the station. As I approached the shopping centre exit a smiling lady stood in my way. "Hello! How are you?", she asked. It was a former pupil, who passed her test last year. I hurried my reply, asked how she was getting on and hastily condensed a conversation I would have loved to have had into 30 seconds. Then I ran to the station and just made the train.
Well, it is disappointing to tell you, at least as far as the theme of the day is concerned, that the train journey went without a hitch. Not even the smallest delay. I just had to either get a taxi, or make the ten minute walk to the bus station and catch a bus. I made the wrong choice.
Catching a bus. That's a fairly simple thing to do, right? The garage closed at 6.00pm. According to the timetable, the bus would get me to the garage at about 5.20pm. I could relax. I didn't know this part of Fife, so I kept an eye out for my stop, having made a mental note of the villages that preceded it. Just as I could see the garage a couple of hundred metres ahead, the bus turned right. I assumed that the bus would do a loop and come back this way. Ten minutes later, we seemed to be heading further and further away, and the last remaining passenger was getting off the bus. I was beginning to feel that something was not quite right. I asked the bus driver if I had missed my stop. "Yes, it was about ten minutes ago." No need to panic, I thought. My best option would be to get off the bus, call the garage and ask if they could collect me. Luckily, I got my phone out before I got off the bus.... The battery had run out!
All I could do now would be to get off the bus then hope that there would be another bus in the next five minutes that was going back the other way. My final salvation came when the bus driver said that this bus would be going back nearby, then I would have a ten minute walk to the garage.
Finally, after over six hours, a stressful car drive, a walk, two trains, another walk, a stressful bus ride, then a final walk, I arrived at the garage about ten minutes before they closed. They could have given me any old car at that point, I was just relieved to be back in a car and in control.
So, I had my car. I also had dual-controls, but not in the car. So the latter part of today was set aside to get the controls fitted, and also to have my logo put on the car. I dropped the car off at the garage and wondered how I was going to kill three hours in Inverness. After nearly two hours the garage called...
"We seem to have a bit of a problem......"
Don't you just hate it when someone starts a conversation like that.
"...... The dual-controls don't seem to fit."
My heart sank. "But I ordered the controls specifically for that very model." I now had visions of having to send the dual-controls back to He-Man (the manufacturer), then having to wait maybe a week before I could finally start instructing in my car.
"We have been in touch with He-Man and they don't understand it. We at waiting for them to get back to us, but it may be that it is not possible."
This was serious. I couldn't contemplate using the car for instruction without dual-controls. I even began considering the awful prospect of having to sell the car, after just four days, and going through the whole process of finding another tuition car. So I walked back through Inverness to the garage, probably looking like the most miserable man that ever lived.
It was, therefore, a very slight glimmer of hope when I got back to the garage to see two men with their heads buried deep within my car.
"Any news?" I asked, hopefully, but fearing the worst.
"Yes. We think we've cracked it," was the beautiful reply.
It turned out the previous owner had a Bose sound system installed, and the rather substantial amplifier had been fixed exactly where the dual-controls were supposed to go.
Would I have to make the ultimate decision? Sound system or dual-controls? I bit my lip and hesitantly said "If it's a choice, the amplifier will have to come out."
And so I sat, cross-legged in the garage car park, like an anxious father waiting outside an operating theatre at an hospital.
The surgeon, I mean mechanic, finally came out. I tried to read his expression.....
"It's good news.... You now have dual-controls."
Ah, the relief! I couldn't contemplate what chaos it would have caused if fitting them had not been possible. It got better though...
"And we have managed to relocate the amplifier too."
Music to my ears. Literally.

All that remained was to get my logo on the car, and Macsigns, in Harbour Road, Inverness, made a wonderful job with that. So, finally, I could now begin lessons in my new dual-control, liveried and wired for sound Alfa Romeo Mito Multiair.

It was a long, and very arduous journey, but, boy, it was worth it in the end.

Opinions expressed here are not necessarily to everyone's liking.

Why do I write this blog? I'm not really sure. I enjoy it (usually), it gets me thinking about various things, it is an informal way of passing on information and advice (particularly on driving matters), and it is a harmless way for me to let off a little steam occasionally. But it is a personal thing. It is not the definitive word on driving or anything else. It is just my personal slant on odd things that grab my attention. It is not to be taken too seriously.
Consequently, I found it laughable  when a couple of other driving instructors threw their toys out the pram, a couple of years ago, because I bemoaned the over-reliance on reference points. I then found it ridiculous when one of them took it so personally that they paid solicitors to threaten me with legal action unless I removed that particular post, even though it was a general rant rather than a specific (or personal) one.
A similar thing happened this week. Whilst at a test centre, waiting for my pupil, another instructor knocked on my car window.
"Why did you slag off my car in your blog?" he asked (he has a Peugeot 207).
I was quite taken aback by this and denied any such action. A few weeks ago, in a post on this blog about swapping my Clio for the Fiesta, I had briefly discussed various cars I have given instruction in. I only had the Peugeot for a few weeks while my Clio was being repaired after being hit by a bus. I actually liked it, and said so at the time. But, as I wrote in the blog post, and as I repeated to this instructor, my pupils and I were happy to get the Clio back. This is not necessarily a reflection on the Peugeot, we were obviously accustomed to the Clio. In fact one pupil, who had been happy with me for months, had her test approaching and preferred the Clio so much that she swapped to another instructor, who had a Clio. This was her PERSONAL choice. No doubt there are plenty of people who prefer 207s to Clios, and plenty of people who prefer the 207 to the Ford Fiesta. They are perfectly entitled to their own opinion and I wouldn't even think of disagreeing with them.
He asked me to remove the remarks about the 207. My initial thoughts were something along the lines of WTF? But I aim to please and, as he has no doubt ascertained, the 'offending' comments have been removed.
Perhaps that's not enough? Perhaps I should redress the balance with more positive comments about the 207 (not that they were negative in the first place):
It is quite a nice looking car. I like the way the wheels are symmetrically positioned on either side. The fuel cap is conveniently positioned on the side of the car to allow easy filling. The steering wheel is an attractive round shape. The seats support from both below and behind. There is a convenient little slot to the right of the steering wheel to hang your car keys. And it comes in some lovely colours.
Strangely, I am far more positive about Peugeots than I am about Manchester Utd, the Conservative party or the pondscum who tailgate my pupils, but I have never had anyone asking me to remove my comments about those.
I guess he felt that prospective customers might read my blog and be so influenced that they would be swayed away from him. (Scratches head), Silly me, I thought potential pupils would be more interested in the quality of instruction, rather than the car, but what do I know?

This year's love

So I turned my back on my Clio and walked away, not looking back.

And I walked straight to my new car; a brand-new, very shiny white 12 reg Ford Fiesta.
I could not be accused of two-timing, I had finished with my Clio before I started with the Fiesta, but I must confess that I did have my eyes on the Fiesta as soon as I realised that things were coming to an end with the Clio.

The weather was a wee bit too wild and chilly to spend too much time admiring her from outside, so I got straight into the cockpit. The first thing I noticed was that I felt much more that I was sitting 'in' the seat, rather than 'on' them. In fact, there is a general feeling of the car being wrapped around you, which, if I'm being harsh, makes the Clio feel slightly 'agricultural' in comparison.
As I drove out of the car-park, the first thing I noticed was the steering; the Clio's steering was slightly 'slow', but the Fiesta's is razor-sharp, not quite as sharp as the Fiat's, but a turning circle more than a metre smaller than the Clio - that should be good for manoeuvres.
The gears are very nice. I used to think the Clio's gear selection was good, but the Fiesta's feel even more slick. And there is no effort to select 5th - the spring on the Clio was slightly too firm, resulting in anxiety for some learner drivers the first few times they tried to select 5th gear. Even better, thankfully, is that there are no problems at all in selecting reverse. So no more panics in the middle of a turn in the road because they can't get it into reverse.
The integrated entertainment and communications system all looks a bit complex, and I haven't got round to exploring that properly yet, but I have worked out how to make and receive calls on my mobile using voice command, which should save me having to pull over every time someone calls me.

A good few years ago, someone was considerate enough to crash into my parked car (a story I shall have to tell you sometime) and I put the insurance payout towards treating myself to a Mazda RX7 (which reminds me of other stories that perhaps I won't tell you). Anyway, this car was FAST. The following weekend, I drove up to see my friend, Molly, at Culzean, and I took some obscure B roads to enjoy the journey. My favourite was the B6277 from Barnard Castle, through Middleton-in-Teesdale, to Alston. Weaving my new car around that twisting road it felt like something from a car television advert. Loved it. Well, I had that same feeling again with my new Fiesta as I took the B9007 from Carrbridge, over the Dava moor, to Forres; a glorious, winding road, with no other vehicles. The car was a real pleasure to drive, feeling completely assured on every bend.

I still notice and admire Renault Clios coming towards me, but do I regret changing to the Fiesta? Not a chance.

Five reasons to be cheerful

A very happy bunny today as the garage have just called and told me I can collect my Clio later this week.

I had been getting a wee bit concerned as it is over 3 weeks since they collected it and I had not heard anything. The Peugeot has been fine as a replacement, but I will be glad to get my car back. It will be nice to have that extra bit of power, a better biting-point on the clutch, five doors instead of three, a colour that doesn’t highlight every single midge-splat and, most importantly, a better bass on the CD player.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction

Life is determined not to be straightforward.
On Monday Jane and I flew back from Luton to Inverness. The weather reports were not good; extremely strong winds were hammering the north of Britain and we were concerned that our flight would be cancelled. Then, there followed news about another Icelandic volcano also threatening the operation of flights. Our flight was ok, if a little bumpy, but subsequent flights were cancelled.
Yesterday morning I had a six-hour Pass Plus course with James, who passed with about six weeks ago. A very nice driver, he only picked up two driving faults on his test, but he has had had little experience on dual-carriageways and, with the Highland Council helping with a grant, it made sense to undertake the course.
Inverness was getting busy with Saturday shoppers and we approached the Millburn Road dual-carriageway from Diriebught Road, intending to turn right. The road was busy in both directions, but James was able to cross the first lane and wait in the central reservation. It seemed as though we would have to wait some time for a gap in the traffic approaching from our left but we were surprised when an oncoming bus began slowing and flashing his lights. His intention was clearly to let James out. Very nice of him but it was a decision we would all regret.

If you think back to your maths and physics lessons, you may vaguely remember something about Newton's Laws of Motion. I can't remember which is which, but I remember doing lots of sums concerning 'a body of mass, m, subject to a net force, F, undergoes an acceleration, a, that has the same direction as the force and a magnitude that is directly proportional to the force and inversely proportional to the mass, i.e. F=ma. One of the other laws states that a body at rest will remain at rest until acted upon by an external force. When you are at school and the teacher writes this on whatever they use instead of blackboards these day it can initially make you think "?!?!?!". However, in practice, it becomes very clear.
For example: When my car is at rest and is hit by an accelerating bus weighing up to 18,000kg (with passengers), we can apply the formula F=ma, and calculate that the force was effing horrendous.

After the bus let us out, James drove up to the Raigmore Interchange, a big, fast roundabout beneath the A9. He was looking for gaps in the traffic as he approached, but ultimately had to stop and wait. Waiting for a gap at a junction can be streesful even for a more experienced driver, but I always reassure my pupils, telling them not to take chances and wait for a clear gap. Of course, this is not made any easier by the facts that half the drivers on the roundabout are not indicating correctly or are even in the wrong lane. And there is a big bus behind us.
After about a minute, I can see a gap in the approaching traffic. This is a Pass Plus, so I expect James to see this too. He sees the gap, but is slightly hesitant in moving off. WHAM! One instant I am looking at the traffic, making sure it is still safe for James to accelerate, the next thing I know, there is an almighty bang, glass shatters and I am aware of the fact that, for a split second, I am now looking at the interior roof of the car as my head gets thrown back (yes, my head restraint was correctly positioned). Momentum throws us forward and the noise of traffic has increased because the rear window has completely shattered.

I checked that James was ok and asked him to sit in the back of the car while I get out and have a little chat with the bus driver. I actually felt a little bit sorry for him because he had been kind enough to let us out into the traffic (although, with hindsight, I wish he hadn't). His main concern was that he might lose his job. Because he was carrying passengers, it was his obligation to call the police (who were very prompt) and their main priority was obviously to get us moved away from the roundabout as soon as possible. The bus driver asked me to agree that he had given me plenty of room. "Yes....to start with, you did." I replied. He then explained that he thought my pupil was moving off faster than he actually did. There was no question that, regardless how quickly James was moving off, the bus driver was 100% in the wrong (and I had to keep reassuring James about that). Once we had swapped details, and the police were satisfied with what had happened, I drove away.

Luckily, the car was still ok to drive, although it was amazing how much damage a bus could do from a standing start, but I had to pull over when I could to clear as much shattered glass as possible. James comes from Durness, 105 miles and over two hours away. So doing his Pass Plus all in one 6-hour session made sense. I was pleased to hear that, although we would obviously have to end that session prematurely, he was keen to return in the next couple of weeks to complete the course.
Once I finally arrived home I was straight on the phone to my insurance company. Typically, because it was now Saturday afternoon, it was outside of office hours and, although someone was there to register my claim, she could make no promises about how quickly things could be resolved - especially as it was a bank holiday weekend.
So here I sit: No car and three, maybe four days of lessons cancelled. This is particularly frustrating as I had a new pupil scheduled on Saturday afternoon and, even though it is not my fault, it still feels slightly uncomfortable telling a new pupil that my car had been involved in an accident. Many thanks to friends and family who have offered to lend me their cars, but it is in my pupils' best interests if I just postpone their lessons.
I'm beginning to wish that that volcano had erupted a day earlier and our flights had been cancelled after all.

We have lift off!

Today, I finally launch my new driving school. Ok, it may seem a bit grand to say ‘driving school’ when it is just me but, who knows, I may take on other instructors in the future.

I’m really excited about it, and a good, confident ‘excited’ too…. not a nervous ‘excited’. I have said it before, but I am not leaving BSM because I have any problem with them. I have no personal experience with Red, the AA or any other driving school, but I would have no hesitation in recommending BSM to anyone thinking of training to become a driving instructor. Once you have qualified though, consider your options. I liked the supply of pupils - sometimes not enough, sometimes too much - although the supply strangely dried-up a couple of months ago. I liked the fact that, if anything went wrong - with the car, with pupils, with payments - someone from BSM would do what they could to fix it. I liked the cars - the Corsa, although a little dull, was a good tuition car, and the Fiat 500, although a little underpowered and slightly sensitive, has been fun to drive and teach in; I shall miss it. And I liked the camaraderie and sense of ‘belonging’ with other BSM instructors and office staff. All in all, I (just about) considered it worthwhile paying the franchise fee each week. I lost count of the number of times I would be at test centres, chatting with other instructors, who would urge me to leave BSM and go independent; I would “never look back” they would say. However, many of these instructors would also say “I am really busy at the moment. I’ve got 27 hours this week.” busy?! PAH! As someone who has spent years running pubs, restaurants and hotels, anything less than 60 hours is part-time! So any thoughts of ‘going independent’ were always checked by concerns about how I would attract my own pupils. Where should I advertise? What should I charge? What happens if I don’t have enough pupils?

Over the last nine months, for various reasons, I have started to get a lot more pupils approaching me directly, rather than through BSM. I’m not going to list everything I did because it’s dog-eat-dog (as Adam Ant once said) out there and why should I give any advice to ‘the competition’? However, I was generating enough new pupils to make me think that perhaps I no longer needed to pay BSM to do this for me.

Once the decision had been made to leave BSM, I was then faced with countless new questions: What do I call my new business? What car do I choose? Do I buy or lease a car? What about the cheaper franchises (where the driving school provides the car, but no pupils), such as AA Solo, BSM AFI, etc?

I wasn’t too fussy about the car, but, with the mileage I do, I was fairly set on a diesel - that ruled out the AA, who only provide petrol cars. I considered BSM associated franchise, but it is a lot of money for a car, but no supply of pupils. Although, ultimately, it may be better for me to buy a tuition car and replace it every 18-24 months, depreciation would mean that it would not be hugely cheaper than leasing a car but I would have various worries (maintenance, paperwork, replacement cars etc), which I would not have if I leased a car. So, for the first one or two years at least, I am going to lease a car and see how that goes.

But what car? No choice whilst at BSM, just the Fiat 500. But I still put the Fiat in my shortlist (although a diesel version). Other cars that made it into my shortlist included the Ford Fiesta, the Mazda 2 and maybe the VW Polo, but I was inclined towards the increasingly ubiquitous Fiesta. In fact, back in April,, when I thought I would only have to give BSM one month’s notice, I had actually gone ahead and placed an order for the lease of a new Fiesta. So I was definitely not a happy bunny when BSM said I had to give three months notice; I did not want to pay for two cars, so I had to cancel the Fiesta order.

A month ago, I was in Ullapool enjoying a lunch-break in the sun, when a car pulled up in front of me. My instant reaction was ‘Wow! I want one of those’ - and I am not usually an ‘I want one of those’ person (unless it comes to British Sea Power CDs, aniseed twists or ginger biscuits). When the occupants had walked away I had a sneaky peek at their car. My mind was almost made up and, a week later, was confirmed after a test drive. It is a car which, as well as being great to drive, radiates class, quality, sophistication and sexiness - just like me.

So on this beautiful, sunny morning, I am sat on the Inverness - Glasgow Megabus, on my way to pick up my brand new Renault Clio. I was initially a little disgruntled by the fact that the car lease company would only deliver as far north as Glasgow, but now the day has arrived, I am enjoying my three-and-a-half hour journey south to meet the transporter. I feel like a kid the night before Christmas.

But what about the name? After all the tortuous mental wrangles, what snappy, defining word(s) did I choose for my new driving school? I would observe other independent instructors and note that I could not read a lot of their names until they were very close. I wanted something short, so that the letters could be large enough to be read from a distance. I liked the idea of incorporating an ‘L’ into the name, but that was not essential. I love driving and am saddened by the grim-faced and competitive nature of some drivers (and instructors), so, for a long time I was set on ‘SmiLe’. I have seen one or two ‘Smile’ driving schools on the internet and I liked the imagery. Unfortunately, while trying to design a logo one day, the face of Marti Pellow popped into my head and I could no longer bring myself to be associated with such an image.

From the age of thirteen, I somehow acquired the nickname ‘Farley’. I’m not entirely sure why, but it may have been my penchant for the extra-large ginger biscuit-type things the school would often provide for desserts. I guess they reminded someone of Farley’s Rusks. Or it may have been someone deciding that, because my surname begins with the first two letters as ‘rusk’, Farley would be an obvious (?) nickname…. I really don’t know how I ended up with the name. Perhaps it was something deeply insulting that has been kept secret from me. Anyway, it was a name that stuck and was soon used by friends, parents, teachers and just about everyone except my grandmother. Last year I wrote about our very influential French teacher, Monsieur Hobbs, and how he (unknowingly) inspired our fad for Franglais. Consequently, ‘Farley’ soon became ‘Farlé’, and then just ‘Farle’. Thirty years later, my wife, Jane, said “Why don’t you call it ‘Farle’?” I was initially dismissive, and not because it my wife’s idea rather than mine, but because I thought all those driving instructors out there who simply had their name on their signs were just a little unimaginative. However, I came round to the idea and, when I suggested alternative names to some of my pupils, ‘Farle’ beat ‘Smile’. (I did promise a free driving lesson to whoever came up with the ‘winning’ name, but I don’t think Jane will take very kindly to that).

With the name decided, I then had to think how best to market my fledgling business. I had been pleased when BSM made the decision to stop using the plastic roof signs, but now I am trying to promote my business myself, it is tempting to go back to a roof sign; after all, what is the point in choosing a short name if it is not going to be prominent? Meanwhile, while I shop around for one of those, my self-designed door signs arrived by post yesterday. That was exciting, but frustrating not yet having a car I could instantly go and put them on.

The bus is now two hours from Glasgow. Yesterday I confirmed all arrangements with the car lease company (I resisted the temptation to ask them if they were scared to venture as far north as the Highlands, rather than tentatively venturing up to Glasgow and then running quickly back south). So, shiny new car ordered? Check. Name chosen? Check. Logo designed? Check. Car signage delivered? Check. CD chosen as the first CD to be played in my new car?……… This is critical. Important drives have to be christened with an appropriate fanfare. Before we set off on our annual drive down to Dorset for the summer camping holiday, I would always spend ages deliberating over which essential tracks to include on the compilation cassettes. And then, I would spend a similar time choosing between ‘Teenage Kicks’ by The Undertones, ‘New Rose’ by The Damned or ‘Another girl Another planet’ by The Only Ones as THE track to kickstart the holiday. It was going to be ‘Do you like rock music?’ by British Sea Power, the most jaw-droppingly brilliant album of recent years, but I have decided to go for ‘Live in Belfast 2001’ by Belle and Sebastian (the bonus CD that came with their 2008 BBC session CD) - it is a rare album that can give me the shivers and have me singing (ok, shouting) along at the same time.

Actually, I was wrong. I don’t feel like a kid the night before Christmas, it is EVEN more exciting than that. I feel like Charlie entering the chocolate factory, or like Dr Frank N Furter about to unveil Rocky, or even like the German football team lining up to face England.

I will let you know soon what I think of the new car.