My learning curves

Eagle-eyed readers will no doubt have spotted an embarrassing blemish in the photo of my car published here last week. I refer, of course, to the vile white plastic square emblazoned with a big red L that I'm still legally obliged to display.

For, yes, almost a year since that photo was taken, it's still there, despite my best efforts. My poor finances are going to take another hammering when my insurance is due for renewal in a few short weeks as a result of its continued presence. But I did try.

I've kept this a secret until now, but I failed my driving test a few months ago. Everything was dandy, flew through the verbal test, even managed to remember to check my brakelights were working, showed the evil tester robot where all the buttons were that made the car do various things. And, as far as I was concerned, the driving was dandy too.

But she failed me. For not keeping up with the flow of traffic. I was livid. I had rigidly stuck to 29 mph the whole time, as if my life depended on it. I've never had a speeding ticket, and I certainly wasn't about to get one during my test.

But that didn't stop everyone else from tearing off from traffic lights and zooming into the distance, leaving me in no-man's land as she ticked her little boxes.

So, to my eyes, I failed the test for refusing to break the law. I wanted to scream and yell and stamp my feet and hold my breath until I was sick. But what would that have achieved? Nothing but a mess in my spotless car and a load of satisfaction for her.

What's even more galling is a stipulation in the rules for what vehicle you can take your test in. According to the www.drivingtest.ie website, the vehicles used by testees applying for Category B licences "must be capable of a speed of at least 100 km/h". Why? Who does 100 km/h in their driving test? Or maybe that's the secret to passing, the one my instructor neglected to tell me?

Moi, bitter?

Anyway, back to the topic in hand - the fact is, I'm again waiting for my chance to decommission my L-plates and show the other Provos a good example. Except now they've gone and made it more difficult.

To be fair, the idea of basic mechanical testing was mooted many moons ago by Seamus "Gloating? Who me?" Brennan. Then it appeared to have been shelved.

At first, I thought Martin Cullen must have paid someone an inordinate amount of cash to retrieve it for him from said shelf. But then I noted the findings of an inquiry into the retrieval of the idea from the shelf upon which it was placed, which exonerated the minister from any impropriety in the way he ordered the idea be retrieved.

(Notwithstanding the fact that it has been determined that there was no impropriety whatsoever in the way said idea was retrieved from the shelf, Government officials are now, without prejudice to the findings of the inquiry, looking into recommendations about how things are to be retrieved from shelves for ministers in the future to avoid the perception of impropriety.)

Not that I'm overly worried by a few mechanical questions. (Says he, dooming himself to failure.) Driving an ancient old banger as I do, the ability to perform basic checks becomes second nature, similar to the art of feigning deep hurt at perceived injustices when you are a republican politician.

But you'd be surprised at how ignorant some people are. Take this wee anecdote, which I am reliably assured is true. A driving instructor, with many years behind the wheel, told a friend of mine he was recently teaching a middle-aged woman how to drive. He asked her a few basic questions, like how to check your tyre pressure.

"Correct. And now, can you tell me where the dipstick is?" he asked, innocently.

"Ah, Jaysus no, sure didn't I leave him 15 years ago . . . "