The first day of school is a nerve-wrecking memory for most people and heading back to driving to school proved no less of a challenge writes Elaine Edwards
THERE'S SOMETHING really odd about getting into a car as a "learner" after 15 years of driving - 13 of them with a full licence - but perhaps it's no bad thing to go back to basics sometimes. I'm behind the wheel at the new Leinster Driving Campus in Maynooth, Co Kildare, which is the first such purpose-built driving circuit in Ireland for learners of all sorts - young and older beginners, more advanced drivers and motorcyclists.
It also boasts a specially-built skid-pad, which mimics wet and icy conditions, to give motorists a safe environment in which to learn how to control a vehicle in treacherous weather.
The school was established by brothers Padraic and Brian McHale, sons of former rally driver Joe McHale.
It's built on family land a few kilometres outside Maynooth and has proper road markings, traffic signals, a pedestrian crossing with beacons, and something else that most learners find intimidating - a tailor-made hill-start that would have any clutch howling for mercy.
"My dad was in a local supermarket and he saw a driving instructor trying to teach a pupil the basics of car control," says Padraic McHale.
"We all learned to drive when we were young - out on tractors and in cars in the fields. He thought there should be a facility that would enable people who are nervous, people who are pure beginners, to concentrate purely on learning how to drive without having to worry about pedestrians and other road users."
The day starts out as a grim, wet, and slippery September day; just the kind that requires all reserves of skill, concentration and patience as a driver on the average Irish road (something this driver, in particular, doesn't possess in spades).
So by the time I get behind the wheel of the school's Toyota Yaris, I've already more than an hour, and 30 miles of fairly horrible driving behind me.
My visit starts with Padraic McHale behind the wheel, for a spin around the skid-pan.
I'm glad to be strapped into the passenger seat, a spot that makes many drivers of long standing quite uncomfortable. McHale deftly steers the car as it slithers beneath us, conducting a sort of ballet dance with the steering and handbrake, but easily imposing control on the wayward vehicle.
He explains the theory behind handling a skid, including how to react quickly, how to transfer the weight of the car back to the wheels that have lost traction, and how to safely stop.
There's nothing quite like a car out of control, the sound of spinning and screeching tyres, to put your heart in your mouth. I can't figure out if it's made worse or better by the fact that I'm not behind the wheel.
Then instructor Pat Dooley puts me through my paces.
He takes me through all the basics, as if I were doing a test. I drive like a 17-year-old first-timer - cautious, revving inappropriately, uncoordinated. It's been a long time since I was under such scrutiny, even though Dooley is patience personified.
I don't think I reached a speed above about 47km/h the whole time.
Dooley takes me through all the basics, including "turnabout" or three-point turn as it was formerly known. I do it in three, no problem.
But then he makes me do it again, only with my right foot on the floor this time. The car does the same job, with less gas.
I'm definitely doing things that I normally do to compensate for the particular quirks of my own car, but which aren't strictly necessary.
Dooley gently points out a few "issues", such as my left foot poised above the clutch as I dip into corners.
I tell him I never do that in my own car, and anyway, my foot was "just hovering" - it wasn't actually ON the clutch. It was just in a state of "readiness for deployment".
I negotiate the hill start, which has a steep angle typical of multi-storey car park ramps, without a hitch. But reversing around a corner into an angled "yield" bend, I completely screw it up like I'd never have done in real life.
A later reverse around a corner goes properly because I simply did what I'd normally do and turned around to look out the back window, rather than trying to guess the manoeuvres Dooley was expecting of a "learner" driver.
He catches me off-guard by asking me to demonstrate hand signals. In 15 years of driving, I don't think I've ever had reason to actually use a hand signal - well, not an officially approved one anyway.
Still, I remember all the official ones and my blushes are just about spared.
Later, in my own car, I find myself scrutinising my every move to see if there is, in fact, anything I could do differently. Every movement fluid now, I figure there were some things I did under scrutiny that I simply never do on the road.
Part of it was, I think, that I was trying hard to do what I thought would be expected of a learner, instead of what actually comes naturally to me in a car a thousand times a day.
Even if I did succumb to my bad habits as soon as I sat gratefully back behind the wheel of my trusty motor, I did have pause for thought about my driving several times in the days afterwards as I cruised with my right elbow propped against the door frame.
One of the school's target markets for the off-road course (it provides regular on-road classes too), is transition year students. Padraic McHale says they are already in early talks with some schools.
McHale says the aim is to bring younger people up to a standard of skill that will allow them get a learner permit when they turn 17 - because the school is situated in private grounds, no permit is necessary for lessons.
One thing the instructors make clear about the off-road circuit is that it's not for groups of guys and gals to come down for a day of driving jollies.
"We've had a lot of phone calls here from people who think this is going to be 'the craic' - we're not in that business," says Dooley.
Surprisingly, he says he believes young drivers actually listen and are keen to learn. He says the instructors never use words like "fear" or "scared" when teaching.
Yet a quick demonstration on what happens when the clutch is used incorrectly approaching a T-junction opposite a blind ditch, puts my heart in my mouth - and I hope it would do the same for any 17-year-old before they take the wheel themselves.
The hardest people to teach, Dooley says, are men aged 45 to 50, because they think they know everything and will hit every corner or roundabout just that tiny bit too fast, leaving them scrabbling to regain their steering and put the car back in a straight line.
Margaret Reddy from Newbridge is currently re-learning to drive in her 60s and has so far had two lessons.
"I wanted my independence because I'm sick and tired of depending on people to bring me here, there and everywhere," she says.
She believes the off-road circuit is "exactly what's needed for people like me".
Ms Reddy says of her first lesson with Padraic McHale: "He gave me confidence and made me feel 'I can do this'."
She hopes ultimately to take her test and to be back out on the road, giving her husband Tom a break from doing all the driving.
"I reckon it'll take at least another four lessons - maybe I'm being optimistic."
• Go to www.drivingcampus.ie for further information about the Leinster Driving Campus
REGULATING LEARNER DRIVERS: Home and abroad
Most drivers in Ireland, it seems, get out on the road without a thought and often without a proper lesson. However, by the end of this year, the learner driver system and the driving instructor register will have been completely overhauled in an effort to increase safety on the roads.
Legislation this year introduced restrictions on learner drivers getting behind the wheel unaccompanied and motorcyclists will have to complete compulsory biker training before they get out on the road from January 1st.
Also by that date, all driving instructors in the State will be required to complete approved driving instructor (ADI) training and register with the Road Safety Authority.
About 300 instructors have so far passed the full three-part course that will allow them to be fully registered as ADI instructors. A further 700 or so are in the process of doing the training.
Prospective drivers in other countries often face much more stringent criteria for obtaining a driving licence than would-be motorists have in the past in this State.
In Japan, for example, to get a licence motorists must attend 26 lectures lasting 50 minutes each, and have 34 driving lessons before the final test.
For an automatic transmission-only licence, just 31 lessons behind the wheel are required.
The training programme also includes three hours of first-aid training and a personality test of sorts.
There's no pass or fail for the personality test but would-be licence holders are asked questions such as: "Do you often get into long arguments with people?"
The instructors analyse the driver's mental disposition and suggest ways to make changes so that negative attitudes don't affect behaviour while driving on the roads.
A pass in the entire test requires a score of 90 out of 100 points.
In the practical driving test, points can be deducted for failing to adjust the rearview mirror or failing to roll down the window at a railway crossing, for example.