Coming to a crossroads

"Slow down a bit"

(15 seconds later) "Just ease off the accelerator a bit"

(10 seconds later) "Bring your speed down a bit".

I'm fully aware of the fact that, although my pupil is speeding, there is a car right up our backside (of course there is). A shame; otherwise I would have cheerfully rammed my foot down on the dual control brake. After all, actions speak louder than words. 

Just five minutes earlier I had collected my pupil from his very large manor/castle (no, I'm not exaggerating).

"Good morning" I smile as I make a point of putting a new facemask on. "Do you have your facemask Sean?" (not his real name).

"Do we still have to? We don't at school (Gordonstoun - a very expensive private school that includes Prince Charles among its alumni)."

He obviously knows the answer though, because he has a facemask in his hand.

I ask him how his driving practice is going and 'what would be like to work on today?'

"Roundabouts and reversing, because I don't practice that."

I sigh internally. I encourage my pupils, who have use of a car outside of lessons, to use the time to work on perfecting their driving and practice the stuff that they struggle with. They don't though. They usually just act as a taxi service for their parents/spouse/partner. It usually builds their confidence, but, more often than not, ingrains bad habits.

Thirty seconds later we are hurtling towards Elgin and I am quickly running out of ways to politely say "SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!" Meanwhile, he is asking me utterly pointless questions, such as "Do I have to keep both hands on the wheel? Sadly, I am not joking. The reason the question is pointless is because I know that it doesn't matter what my answer is, he is arrogant enough to do exactly what he wants when.... no, if he passes his driving test. Besides, I don't want to contemplate what he wants to use his free hand for.

Fortunately, fifteen years of being a driving instructor means that I know exactly how to deal with pupils like him, which, I have to say, are very rare. I am not going to inflict his Verstappen fantasies on other road users in Elgin. We are going to go to a nice big car park and practice lots of very slow bay parking. And, if he brings his clutch up the tiniest bit too much, I shall use the dual controls and emphasise the importance of all-round, effective observation. 

A Zen-like calm has spread through me; not just because I know how to deal with him, but mainly because I just don't care about his driving anymore. That's not really true, I just wrote it for shock value, but there is a smidge of truth in it. I genuinely care about my customers and do everything in my power to make them good, safe drivers..... until now.

The reason for this change? In less than two weeks I will no longer be a driving instructor. I won't be the person responsible for taking 'Sean' (and many other pupils) to their driving tests. There is no dominant reason, but, for many many different reasons I applied for a different job and, this week, I learned that I had been successful in my application. In four weeks I will be a Driving Examiner....

The customer is always right, but your instructor still knows better.

Yes, yes. I know it's been a while since my last post. Get over it.
I'm in a bolshy mood. I'm going to blame it on my pupils. I spend my working hours sat in close proximity  - is there such a thing as distant proximity? - with my customers. No, this isn't a hygiene rant, most of my customers are fresh and fragrant. But imagine spending an hour, two hours, even three hours, in a lift with one other person. Fortunately, some of my customers are expert raconteurs, blessed of wit and warmth. And most of them are capable of constructing a meaningful sentence. But, every now and then, I look at my diary and see that my day includes an hour (or more), trapped with someone who will barely say a word.
In the early lessons I accept, almost expect this. They may be nervous, or just heeding the advice they were given by their parents not to talk to strange men. But, after a lesson or two, I do expect a little bit of interaction. Learning is a two-way process. I try to encourage people to work things out for themselves where appropriate. At the moment I have someone who just doesn't answer when I ask them a question. They just stare ahead and wait for me to tell them. I try rephrasing the question, but often, still no answer. I had someone pass earlier this year who had the strangely amusing habit of, whenever I asked them a question, would ALWAYS put their finger on their lip, screw up their face, as though they were thinking, and then reply "I don't know". I knew the answer would be 'I don't know', but it used to fascinate me watching them get to that answer.
I wouldn't ask someone such a baffling question as 'Why did that person overtake us when they were going to turn off the road ten seconds later?' Or 'Why are there traffic lights on the Kessock Bridge roundabout?' But I do like people to at least have a stab at answering the questions I do ask.
However...... Worse, much worse, than someone who doesn't seem to know anything, is someone who thinks they know it all. I'm not going to give examples but, as a qualified instructor, with close to one million miles of driving experience, I am pretty confident that I know more about driving than any customer I have ever had. Don't get me wrong, I like my customers to discuss situations with me. Give me your perspective and explain your way of thinking. But, ultimately, you are paying ME to instruct YOU... I do know better than you.
And while we are at it - and this is what triggered me to write this - the driving examiners also know better than you. I sat in on a test recently. It was a customer who should easily pass; a really controlled, composed driver. But definitely not a 'know-it-all'. The test was going well, I felt completely relaxed in the back. Unfortunately, they misjudged a car coming round a roundabout and, incorrectly pulled out in front of them. My customer accelerated briskly, but I knew the oncoming car would have had to at least hold the brake.
At the end of the test my customer obviously thought they had passed because they seemed quite shocked when the examiner explained why they had failed. "But I didn't cause then to slow down" he tried to argue. DON'T argue with examiner. The examiner's jaw dropped, "How close did you want them to get" they replied, but I could tell that they were quite stunned that my customer disagreed with them.
I shall give them the benefit of the doubt and put it down to disappointment. But, the next time someone pulls out in front of us (and someone will), I shall ask them for their thoughts. I am pretty sure they won't put their finger on their lip, screw up their face and, eventually reply, "I don't know".

Nobody said it was easy

I thought 100 days was a nice, round point to start my training for Tough Mudder. Start off with some walking, some jogging, maybe even some burpees and planks (I had to search Youtube to discover what a burpee was). The trouble is, I'm quite highly skilled in the art of procrastination. 'Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow' will no doubt be what Jane puts on my tombstone. So Day 100 came and went without any training. So did Day 99. My only excuse is that I had five pupils taking their tests this week. All five passed, so I think I was justified in (slightly) delaying my training.
This morning I was looking at my diary and trying to think where I could possibly fit in some training. With 12 more tests in the next couple of weeks, it is going to be a struggle.
Now, I'm usually not too impressed when someone cancels a lesson with less than 48 hours notice but, today, when someone cancelled a two hour lesson, I thought 'great, I can get some training done'. I was lucky enough to have afternoon pupils who were willing to bring their lessons forward, so I was looking forward to finishing lessons at 5pm and getting out there and transforming my slightly less than perfect physique into a lean, sculpted, perfect specimen of the male form.

Last week, up here, people were getting sunburnt and the temperatures reached the twenties. It was a pleasure giving lessons with the windows down, or even the air-con on. Today, on the day I wanted to get out there, it was cold and wet. In my penultimate lesson of the day, we were nearing the end of the lesson when it started to hail. Hard. Quickly the roads began to fill with ice. The temperature was dropping, so it was not melting. My pupil, Helen, lives in Milton of Leys, which is up on the hills which overlook Inverness from the South.
As we began to head up the A9, the hail had turned to snow, and I mean real snow. It was settling quickly and as we began to head up the dual-carriageway, we could see traffic slowing ahead. Conditions were getting so bad that vehicles were struggling to get a grip and some were even beginning to slide backwards. Very quickly both lanes were at a complete standstill and the police were doing a grand job, shovelling snow from beneath the wheels of lorries and trying to push cars who were struggling to get a grip. Now Helen has only had about twelve hours, so I had not covered driving uphill in snow while other vehicles are slipping back toward us. I asked her if she was willing to tackle it, or would she prefer me to take over. She did an incredible job, controlling the car with precise control of the clutch and very careful use of the accelerator. We did what few others seemed to be doing and kept a healthy gap from the car in front, which gave us much more flexibility. When, on the many occasions we could see traffic was not moving at all, we put the handbrake on, switched off the engine and had a good laugh at the stupidity and futility of some drivers who thought they could make progress by trying to change lanes whenever one lane seemed to be moving slightly more than the one they were in. Finally, after over an hour since the traffic first began backing up, we managed to get off the A9 and get Helen home, where I congratulated her on some superb driving.
By now, I had had to cancel my last lesson of the day due to the conditions, and I headed home, I started preparing dinner, then I realised I was doing it again! I was putting off my training. I looked out the window at the weather. I can't go out in this I thought. Much more sensible to stay warm, open a bottle of wine and enjoy the unexpected time off.

One of the most notorious obstacles in the Tough Mudder is the Arctic Enema (see photo), where you have to jump into a pool of iced water, duck completely under a bar halfway across, and climb out the other side. In three months I will have to do this, yet I'm not going out training because of a little bit of snow. Time to man up. I looked worriedly out the window as I changed into my running gear. I went to Brodie Castle, a mile down the road from me, and thought I would do some laps of the castle grounds for half an hour. Best not to push myself too much on the first day, I told myself. The plan was to jog until I began to feel uncomfortable, walk until I felt ok, jog, walk, jog, etc for half an hour. The snow got heavier, and my red fleece was now almost completely white and I had the lyrics to Coldplay's The Scientist going round in my head. After twenty minutes I made the fatal mistake of jogging within sight of my car. That was that. My willpower left me and I walked back to the car. By now I was beginning to struggle and my chest felt as though it was being sat on. 'This is really stupid' I thought. 'How can I possibly do the Tough Mudder? I shall admit defeat and just go to support the others'.
I got home, still struggling to bring my breathing down to a non-worrying level and tried to stretch, avoiding the temptation to collapse on the bed.
I finally did get my glass of wine - I had definitely earned it - and, to my surprise, a little voice in my head started telling me 'it's not so bad, it's only Day 1 of training, things will get easier.' I may have to abstain from searching for videos of the event, because it all looks a little scary. And I may even have to have to odd day off from training - tomorrow I am working from 7.30am until nearly 9.00pm. But, as long as I keep telling myself 'Don't give up', I am sure I will get there in the end. Gulp.

100 days of Mudder

Father Christmas was very kind to Jane and I last Christmas when, via our daughter Rachel, we received a two night mini-break at the Doubletree Hydro hotel in Dunblane. The second day was very enjoyable, visiting the Falkirk Wheel and walking around the equally impressive Kelpies. 

The first day wasn't so good. It rained and it rained, then, for a bit of variety, it snowed, before raining some more. We had Dolly, our Jack Russell, with us and, rain or no rain, I had to take her for a walk before bed. We walked around the hotel and came to the front, where an impressive lawn sloped very steeply down toward the road. A small sign warned not to walk down the lawn because of danger of slipping (especially on a night like tonight when the ground was so wet), so I stood at the top while Dolly went for a run. In the dark it was difficult to see where she had got to and, as I turned around, my feet slipped from beneath me and, suddenly, I was sliding down the steep slope for at least 20 - 30 metres. As I stood up, I could just about see that I was covered in mud. Soaking wet and caked in mud.
Needless to say, Jane was not particularly impressed but Rachel found the whole thing hysterical when Jane told her the story the next day.

"He looked like he'd done the Tough Mudder" said Jane.
"Oh, we should do that" Rachel suggested.
Now, I had vaguely heard of Tough Mudder - a few of my ex-pupils had taken part in it the previous year - but I had no real idea of what it involved.
Before I could part my lips to offer any opinion, Rachel had already decided that she, Jamie (her fiance), Irene (a friend), Job (another friend) and me would take part as a team. Within seconds she was searching Google and had decided that the Scotland Tough Mudder was too soon, but there is one in Skipton, Yorkshire, on 1st August. Before you can say "I am unfit, overweight and rapidly approaching 50" we had registered for the event and booked two nights accommodation in Yorkshire.
Jobs don't get much more sedentary than mine. The only exercise I get is walking from the driver's side of the car to the passenger side, then back again an hour later. I decided I had better go out for a wee jog - it was scary how long it took me to recover. This Tough Mudder thing really isn't a good idea I decided. I would gladly come along and support, but I wouldn't take part. I couldn't do 12 miles of running up hills, diving into icy water, climbing over all manner of sadistic obstacles. I couldn't even do one mile.
But then I thought 'Is this it? Is this the end of my active life? ' I have run marathons, cycled from John O'Groats to Land 's End, jumped out of aeroplanes, played all manner of sports. Am I now going to say that is all in the past? Is it really time to swap my running shoes for slippers?
" Hell no!!! "
Today I ordered a new pair of mud running shoes. In 100 days time I WILL complete the 2015 Yorkshire Tough Mudder.
Bring it on!

The best things take a little time

Once upon a time, in a house by the sea, there lived a young girl. She worked in the nearest village, but this was some miles away, so it was sensible that she learned to drive.
I wrote about this girl at that time, which was about five years ago. I was still on a franchise with BSM, and driving a Vauxhall Corsa. Now, the young girl didn't find driving easy. It wasn't so much that she couldn't control the car, it was more a fear of other road users. We had several lessons in a quiet car park before she felt that she could venture out onto public roads. Then, to start with, she would get very anxious when other vehicles approached from any direction.
The weeks turned into months and the months turned into years. Sometimes I wouldn't see her for months at a time. However, slowly but surely, she was developing into a nice, controlled driver.
Whilst with BSM I changed from the Corsa to a Fiat 500. In time, I left BSM  and set up my own driving school, leasing a Clio, then a Fiesta before buying my current Alfa.
The young girl moved to Inverness, changed jobs and, finally, took (and passed) her theory test. "How do you feel about taking your test? " I asked her. "No, I don't think I could drive on my own" she replied. I thought she could, but the trouble was, she had relied on me for so long, it was just too easy to ask me what to do, even though she admitted she knew what to do.
Finally, the decision was made. She was going to book her test.
In the hour lesson before her test she had everything thrown at her. The Stornaway ferry had come in and she had to deal with that traffic, a coachload of tourists had arrived in Ullapool and were wandering aimlessly around, oblivious to us approaching. And the bin men were making their way around the village, stepping out from behind their lorry.
"What if that happens to me in the test? " she asked.
"Well, you have just dealt with it, without any help from me, so it's no problem" I replied.
Forty minutes later, I stood at the Fire Station as she completed her test. I could see the examiner say something to her, then she opened the door and looked at me, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"I passed. I PASSED!"
She ran to me and threw her arms around me. "I can't believe it. He just said I passed."
It's always a high whenever a pupil passes, but some are more special than others. And Hayley's was as special as it gets. It had taken five years (on and off), and she had had lessons in five different cars, but she had passed her test and now had her freedom.

In the excitement she had forgotten to pay me, so she text me and asked if I could meet her in Inverness the next day. "Of course. Better still, I can meet you after you finish work and you can drive home - your first drive as a qualified driver."
I met her as she finished work and she got in the driver's seat. "I've forgotten what to do already - I only passed yesterday."
"No you haven't. You can drive home and I'm not going to say a word."
"But which way will I go?"
"I'll leave that up to you."
Just typical.... Her drive home coincided with schools finishing and hundreds of schoolchildren streaming out of school.
"I'm not going to say a word" I reminded her, as she turned to ask me a question.
She got home, without any trouble at all, and without any help from me.
"That was ok. I didn't feel under any pressure"
And that was perhaps the key. Perhaps she had always put herself under pressure to pass and that had caused her to continually doubt her abilities.
This weekend she is going to look to buy a car. I always get pleasure from seeing ex-pupils driving around. I will be positively beaming when I see Hayley driving around on her own.

2014: Fun, floods and facial hair.

Yet another year flies into history at a somewhat scary pace. A year when I have been very neglectful with this blog (again).
Personally, there wasn't too much drama. No births, no deaths, no marriages. I grew an experimental beard for a few weeks when we were invited to a medieval banquet. But it's not something I shall be eager to do again. And, if ever you notice that I'm slightly unshaven, would you be so kind as to remind me of these words.

As you know, I did my first bungee jump and absolutely loved it. But, apart from Liverpool ripping up the Premiership for five thrilling months, any other 'excitement' has been in lessons.
We had Shauna's intensive course in Fort William. My first time instructing there and it coincided with the most rain I have seen fall in a three day period. But not even floods and landslides were going to stop Shauna passing her test at the first attempt.

The only two times we have ever had an accident in lessons were the fault of other drivers (both when vehicles went into the back of us). This year I had a pupil leave the road, not in a lesson, but in a test! Fortunately, no-one was hurt and the only damage was to my two nearside tyres, which both burst.
But I am pleased to report that almost all other drama has been positive, with a record number of my pupils passing their tests. Last year I was thrilled to have 79 pupils pass their driving tests. I was hoping that we might have over eighty this year, but that didn't look likely early on in the year. However, the last few months have gone a bit mad and I ended up with no less than 98 pupils passing their tests in 2014. Congratulations to (deep breath)..... Abbie, Adele, Aimee, Alan, Alex, Alexander, Alice C, Alice Mac, Alice Mash, Allen, Andrea, Andrew, Angus M, Angus U, Becky N, Becky R, Ben, Bethany, Calum, Cameron, Catrina, Chantelle, Charles, Charlotte, Chloe, Conor, Craig, Craig M, Darren, Donald, Donna, Eilean, Eilidh, Elizabeth, Emma, Euan Mac, Euan Mc, Gemma, Geoff, Gregor, Hally, Hamish, Hannah, Harriet, Holly, Humzah, Ian, Innes, Jack B, Jack G, Jamie, Jeanette, Jock, Joe, Joshua, Kacey, Kate, Katie S, Katie W, Katy, Kayleigh, Keirra, Kenneth, Kieran, Lasha, Lauren, Liam, Lilleth, Mark D, Mark V, Mary D, Mary M, Matthew, Michael H, Michael M, Michael O, Michelle, Oliver, Paisley, Patrick, Rachel, Rory M, Rory R, Ruari, Ruairidh, Ryan, Scott M, Scott S, Seumas, Shauna, Sigi, Sophie, Stephen, Stuart, Tess, Tony, Tylar and Vicky. I think that's everyone, but apologies if I have missed anyone.
I am proud of every one of those, but, looking back, the ones that meant slightly more were generally the people who had been with me longer. Angus was one such pupil. He had been unsuccessful in a few tests, arguably slightly unlucky in two of them. But, the puzzling thing was that I had no worries about his driving at all during lessons. I guess it was just that nerves got the better of him on tests. In November he asked me if I would sit in on his test. I am always happy to do so, but explained to him that I cannot say or do anything throughout the duration of the test. He has been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and in tests, and even in lessons, he often found it helpful to talk himself through situations. Before the test started I simply advised him to drive exactly as he usually does and, if he wanted to, to talk himself through each situation. The test was going fine, although I would suggest that he was holding back a bit more than was necessary. He did get slightly alarmed when, at the start of his parallel park, I ducked down in the back seat to allow him more visibility. The examiner reassured him not to worry about me. As the test progressed I had counted a few minor errors, but nothing serious. As each junction and each situation was dealt with I heard a voice in my head urging him on. "Come on Angus." The test was almost over, just a few more junctions to negotiate. Come on Angus. An awkward situation with parked cars on both sides of the road, but he patiently held back and waited until it was clear, Come on Angus. A pedestrian with her back to us started walking towards the curb. He checked his mirrors and watched what she was doing. Come on Angus. The last junction coming up. He took it slightly wide. Come on Angus. The examiner asked him to pull up and switch off the engine. As far as I could tell, it was a pass, but how would the examiner interpret his slight lack of making progress when the road was clear? "I am happy to tell you that you have passed." COME ON ANGUS!!! YES!
Sometimes, this can be a frustrating job. Pupils cancel lessons and don't drive to their best ability. Other drivers tailgate and do all sorts of stupid (and dangerous) things. But all of these niggles fade away when people like Angus pass their test. And, hopefully, many more people will do so next year. Let's break the 100 barrier!

How NOT to take a driving test

I've had a few tests recently which have not gone exactly as I would have liked.
The first one wasn't her fault. She had a 9:37am test and, the night before, I went to pick her up for her last lesson.
"I've got a bit of a problem ” she said, as she got in the car. " I can't find my purse, and it's got my licence in it. "
That's not "a bit of a problem", that's a major disaster.
" I had my purse at school this afternoon, but it's not in my bag now. "
Whether it was stolen, or simply fell out of her bag we shall never know (although when she did get her purse back, money had gone from it). She reported it stolen and planned to go to the school first thing in the morning, in the hope that she might find it.
I met her at school in the morning. "The cleaners haven't come across it" she said.
"It's OK", I lied, " we have plenty of time. "
Her school was 25 minutes from the test centre and, if she didn't find it in the next half an hour, we wouldn't get there in time.
Luckily, with about fifteen minutes to spare, she came running out, clutching her purse and licence.
Very rarely does anyone go to their test completely relaxed, but finding your licence with minutes to spare certainly doesn't help.

A few days later I had another Inverness test. He hadn't been too happy about his first test: In slow moving traffic, he had held back to keep a junction on the left clear. The correct thing to do, but in the examiner's opinion, he had held back too much and possibly irritated the drivers behind. So, this time, he asked me if I would sit in the back.
All was going fine. I was completely relaxed and enjoying the drive. The examiner asked him to pull over and explained that he would like him to complete a reverse (parallel) park, using the parked car ahead. When I sit in on tests, I duck down on the back seat when they are reversing, so that I do not impede their view. This means that I can't see how the manoeuvre is going, but I had every confidence in his ability to successfully complete the parking.
At one point he braked a touch sharply and the brakes squeaked. I saw him secure the car, sit bolt upright and exclaim "OH MY GOD!!! HAVE I HIT THAT CAR?!!!"
”No, you're fine. It's just the brakes. " explained the examiner.
He successfully completed the manoeuvre and passed his test but, as the examiner pointed out to him at the end, he should have known exactly how close/far from that car he was. Shouting "OH MY GOD!!! HAVE I HIT THAT CAR?!!!" is not likely to fill the examiner with confidence.

That same week I had six pupils taking their test in Ullapool. Typically, the examiners take them out on the A835, a twisting, hilly, 60mph road, to Ardmair, a few miles north of the village. While my last test of the day was taking place I was happily enjoying a coffee. My pupil had been out for about half an hour, so it was time to finish my coffee and walk back to (hopefully) congratulate him on passing his test. Just as I was doing that my phone rang. It was the examiner. My heart sank. It couldn't be good news.
"Hello Martin. We've had a bit of an incident." It definitely wasn't good news.
Although his driving had been absolutely fine in his lessons, for some unimaginable reason he had decided to show the examiner that he was Lewis Hamilton. He took a bend too fast, left the road and burst my two nearside tyres. Thankfully, no-one was hurt, although, with hindsight, I would have liked my pupil to have suffered a little. At least he had to suffer the embarrassment of having to walk a mile or so back to the test centre with the examiner. I can't imagine it would have been the most hilarious conversation between them.
My pupil mumbled a quiet "sorry Martin" then disappeared (not that I was in the mood to discuss his next test with him !) and the examiner hurried off to his next test. That left me to rely on the ever helpful Rod Houldsworth at Ullapool garage to rescue my car and transport it 55 miles to the nearest garage that had replacement tyres in stock.
Later, once I had calmed down, I was left wondering exactly what had happened. Nothing like it has ever happened in a lesson, but I guess the examiners try to leave the pupil to it. I just hope nothing like it ever happens again.

I was writing this while Michael was successfully taking his test in Ullapool. Although he passed with just three driver errors, he didn't make it easy for himself. Ullapool tests don't have a test centre, we just park up near the Fire Station. Whilst we were waiting for the examiner Michael asked me where the nearest toilet was because he was desperate to go. There is no nearby toilet. Not even a convenient bush. We didn't have time to drive to the nearest toilet.
"We don't have time. Can you hold on?"
"I'll have to."
I wandered off whilst he took his test. A few minutes later I saw Michael drive past and do an emergency stop..... Not what you want when you need the toilet ! Not only that, but, at the end of his test he told me he had "a bit on an incident" on the road to Ardmair. "Oh no !" I thought, "what now?" He explained that, just as he went round the corner where the aforementioned pupil had gone off the road, a family of ducks had waddled across the road and he had to do a second emergency stop.

An hour later: My last test of the day. Two out of two so far and every confidence in my third pupil passing easily. Except..... Can't fault his control, can't fault his judgement, can't fault his awareness, can't fault his manoeuvres, BUT...... His mirror checks are just a bit..... random. I have explained that he should check his mirrors before any change in speed or direction, before signalling, before overtaking, before changing lanes (not that this applies in Ullapool), etc, but still I have to regularly prompt him. I have explained the consequences of not checking mirrors but, for some unknown reason, he still misses mirror checks. In the lesson before his test we analysed his driving and I stressed that his only weakness was his use of mirrors. However, I felt confident that he would put it right on his test. Result, fail for not checking mirrors. I didn't need to say  ”I told you so ", the look on his face told me he knew.

So, to summarise: Keep both parts of your licence safe, make sure you don't need the toilet before your test, listen to what your instructor says, don't ask the examiner if you have hit something and, most importantly, try to keep the car on the road....... Easy.