Can you drive? Well done. Seriously, it took me four times to get my license; by the fourth time my instructor basically said: ‘well, you’ve got nothing to lose’.

Easy for her to say, I’d had so many lessons I was bank rolling her kids’ piano lessons.

But in my defence, I had my reasons for failing.

For anyone who recently failed their first test, take comfort in this tale of driving horror.

Test 1: I was pretty calm and collected, but on the last leg of the test (and I mean literally turning into the test centre road) I pulled out in front of a van.

Under her breath, I heard the examiner say: ‘so close’.

Oh, I also stopped to let a pigeon flap to the safety of the pavement, but I don’t think they can fail you for being a pigeon sympathiser. Fail.

Second time round, I had Mr Todd, who was the  Malcolm Tucker equivalent of an examiner, who shouted at me for hesitating to overtake a bus.

It kind of throws you when a fat man in a high vis jacket is yelling at you to GET YOUR A*SE IN GEAR. Fail.

Third time round, I was like a boxer ready to go into the ring; the mirrors were perfectly positioned; I knew my show me tell me’s like the lyrics to sh*te pop song; and upon my friends advice, I ‘dressed like a nerd’ so as not to look like a boy racer (see me in person and you’d know that could never be a problem). 

But who should examine me but Mr Todd himself. I won’t bother going into the full extent of that one, only to say it was like a GTA driving test, with a lot of yelling and pedestrian drive by’s.

On the fourth time, my dad gave me some advice, which I shall share with you: ‘when you meet the examiner, don’t be intimidated, just remember that they were sat on the bog like you this morning.’

Feeling slightly disgusted with that image I made for the centre.

Now I don’t know if that strategy necessarily helped, but hey, I can drive now.

That and it was so busy I never got out of third gear. But after all that, is it worth it?

Kinda. I share a car with my siblings, which none of us can afford to run, so it sits sad and alone back home.

And in terms of the opportunity cost of having insurance, or, like, food.

I think I’ll take the food. Having a car back home might be worth it, if you live in north Wales.

But Christ knows why anyone would want a car at university.

Firstly, you aren’t that important that you need a vehicle to transport you and your ASDA shopping in.

Secondly, adding all the costs together (including those ridiculous ‘My other car is a Porsche’ sticker crap) the average motorist spends four grand a year on running their car.

Then there’s actually buying the car; perhaps old aunt Alice accidentally left you five grand in her will, and perhaps you think spending that on your ride is a good investment.

But I can think of other ways to spend that money, rather than on a hunk of metal that you’ll probably back into a lamppost anyway.

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