Temporary New Zealanders

When I was learning to drive, the world was a much different place.

I learnt in an 1100cc Ford Escort van, on highways and back roads, day and night racking up many miles before I was old enough to have a licence. A full licence, that is, no namby pamby learner's permits in 1977. I did steering and backing practice on the tractor. Reg, the bastard, made me practice parking on the road, between 2 44 gallon drums, 10 minutes before the school bus came. if I hadn't done it right 3 times, the bus went on past and then I was picked up on the way back. man, that sucked.

I guess you old friends out there (you know who you are) would have had it even more low tech and self-educational. My father taught himself to drive in an old truck in the 1940s, and then taught his father.

I still remember Granddad's driving...not with pleasure.

As new drivers, we were allowed to use the van, often drove with an adult anyway and were trusted to use our brains and stay out of trouble. And we did. Just a few weeks ago, Reg told me that Mum used to worry about us out at night and driving, but he told her that if we didn't have enough brains to figure it out ourselves by then, we never would.

Twenty eight years later, it looks a whole lot different.

Heather has a learner's permit, and soon she will have a restricted licence and be driving alone. I can only hope she drives safely and legally in my 1300 and 1800cc granny vehicles and not become a statistic like these girls have.

Another stupid, sad bloody waste.