I really want to talk about how, in reality, no car is ever quite as exciting as our first car. Don’t get me wrong though; I can imagine the pants-wetting excitement of getting behind the wheel of an exotic million-mile-an-hour speed machine that’s powered by scramjets, with photon cannons behind the headlights and a one-touch cigar dispenser built into the glovebox. But by then I expect you've already gotten used to the freedom of being able to actually drive a car. For me at least, and I’m sure others will agree, our first car was a four-wheeled box that had all the creature comforts of a bus. But even so, it was the most exciting because that four-wheeled tin can was the key to being able to just get out and see the world. We can all remember the very first time we got to go out on our own, that sudden realisation that the country and indeed the whole world had just gotten a lot smaller.
To me, when you learn to drive, you learn the basics of a car with an instructor who shows you how to use the roads and how to get around most of the million different types of junctions, how to park properly and how to not roll backwards on a hill. You then, when the instructor thinks you’re ready to, drive around with an examiner for forty or so minutes. And then once you’ve passed your test, you properly learn to drive. We can all remember the moment the official-looking person in the passenger seat scribbled away on a clipboard before telling us we’d passed. We’d then get driven home by our instructor before grabbing the keys to our first car and going to experience the roads properly for the first time on our lonesome, or maybe with a family member strapped into the passenger seat. For the first time we’re out in the car independently, finally able to find a driving style that works without someone breathing down your neck. For the first time, there’s no one telling you where to go or what to do. It was just you and the road.
Some people pass their test and immediately go out and buy something with more bells and whistles than an F-35 Lightning and never really get to experience the freedom of properly driving a car for the first time. The trouble is most cars have drive aids of some sort. Whether it's traction control, lane assist, a million other driver aids, hill assist or even autostart after the inevitable newbie stalling. The trouble is all of these take away from the real sense of actually driving a car for the first time.
I mean, don’t get me wrong—these aids and gadgets that make everyday commutes safer are fantastic. But for someone who is getting to experience the real freedom of driving for the first time, I feel like they get in the way.
This is why I think driving instructors' cars, and everyone's first cars, should be as bog standard as a value toaster. They shouldn’t have driver aids or electronic wizardry. The most technological part of the car should be power steering and maybe electric windows, if you felt extra fancy. But the vast majority of the car should be basic. Three pedals, a gear shifter, and a physical handbrake, and it should be started by putting a key into the steering column and turning it. This way, when you go for your first-ever drive, you only get to your destination because you physically drove the car there. You should get used to being physically in control of a car, understanding how it feels to have to judge a corner to not veer off into the closest hedge, without any sort of ESP or ABS to stop you from doing so. Only then should you be allowed to go on to get a car that has more driver aids.
My first car was a wheelbarrow
My first car was a Corsa C, in a deep green that the manufacturer insisted was blue. It just wasn’t. It also had less power than an electric whisk, thanks to the tiny 900 cc three-cylinder engine that didn’t have a balance shaft, and as a result, it rattled more than the Space Shuttle during launch. The most sophisticated part of the car was the front electric windows and electric power steering that did nothing more than make the steering less heavy. Everything else was manual: manual sunroof, manual rear windows, and no ABS. It was essentially a glorified go-kart, with five seats and a heater. It didn’t have air conditioning either, but that didn’t matter because come summertime I’d wind down all four windows and open the sunroof, making it feel like a convertible.
As a result of the lack of any sort of driving assistance (other than the power steering), however, every time I arrived at a destination, I’d only gotten there because I’d actually driven.
I loved that car. I have so many fond memories of blasting that thing along country roads, pinning the car into the corners whilst clinging onto the steering wheel, with the windows down and the sunroof open. Thanks to the massive lack of power from the lumpy three-cylinder engine, I could put my foot through the floor, leave it there, and not have to worry about breaking any speed limits. It really was like driving an oversized green go-kart. Although I feel like a go-kart would be a lot faster.
And that’s my point; I felt like I was driving. I was at one with the machine, fighting to keep the nose pointing in the right direction whilst planning the next corner, feeling it trying to fight back whilst controlling the brakes to slow down enough without locking the wheels, all whilst constantly having to change gear because of the gutless engine. And then when I came to a stop on a hill, I had to use the handbrake and the biting point to stop myself from rolling backwards whilst trying to pull away up the hill. I feel like everyone needs to experience the rawness of actually driving a car before getting into a car that has gadgets to make the commute better.