I’ll just come out and say it, I failed my driving test. My first attempt at a practical test and I failed and for around 2 hours it really did feel like my life was over. Finished completely. No hope. 

Now I’m not a bad driver, just a nervous driver or maybe just a nervous wreck of a person, but whatever that’s besides the point. I didn’t really think I was going to pass anyway. The test centre has difficult routes, lots of roundabouts, junctions, it’s a busy area. The centre also only has a 30% first time pass rate and the craziest part is that for about 20 minutes in time I really truly believed that I would be part of the 30%.

Picture this, it’s finally the day of my test after waiting a whole six months (YES SIX MONTHS) since I booked it and it’s June and it’s raining. Torrentially. I hate driving in the rain, I know that’s something you have to do but it just puts me more on edge. Anyway, I’m stood there in my little snoopy hoodie getting absolutely soaked trying to read a number plate and I keep getting it wrong and the examiner is getting antsy and I’m just getting more and more worked up but I get it right, eventually. We get in the car and I can’t get it to start. Brilliant. And I’m starting to sweat a bit now but whatever I can do it, I’m capable, or so I tell myself. He puts the satnav on and the destination is the road outside my house. I could have cried. Jumped for joy! I got the easiest route possible. No slip roads, No complex junctions and most importantly, no roundabouts! Get in!

So I’m driving about, just tootling along, nervous but managing and then we pull over, uh oh manoeuvre time. He only goes and tells me to do a right hand reverse. I’m thinking Oh My God! I can’t recall all the Gods I prayed to the night before but I’m glad at least one of them listened. This actually might be passable. I’m driving back to the centre, feeling unstoppable, I’ve got this in the bag. Of course we know that I in fact did not. Just as I’m pulling into the road before my destination I get stuck behind an old man in a Range Rover who is doing 20mph on a 40mph road, and for a split second I get a bit too close. The examiner opens his mouth and I know I’ve failed. The most annoying thing, if it wasn’t raining I would have passed. 

We pull up, I’m told I’ve failed and I’m in hysterics. My poor driving instructor doesn’t know what to do with me, I just can’t stop crying. I get home, hug my mum and lie in bed for the next two hours because of course, I have work. In an ideal world I would have booked the day off, but I didn’t. And somehow everyone at work knows I had my test that day and I’m going to have to tell everyone that I failed. Just rubbing salt in a really fresh wound to be honest.

I get into work and I do something I’ve never done before. I just start talking, telling everyone about my massive fail, I guess we could class it as some sort of exposure therapy. After four hours of talking to everyone’s Nan, Grandad, cousin, mum, auntie and any other extended family member I don’t feel quite as bad about myself. It seemed to me that no one really passes on their first go around and that failing isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it makes me more prepared for next time. And they do say that people who pass on their second go are safer drivers.

I guess that all this is to say that failing something isn’t the end of the world. Yes it sent me spiraling for a few weeks, I really did not want to relive the trauma of booking the test again ( it is almost impossible) but we get back in that car and try again. I’ve actually managed to book another test (IN DECEMBER) and this time I’ll be going in with the knowledge that my life won’t be over just because I can’t drive.