My car test was back in 84, 17 years old. The examiner was notorious for failing, or so the rumours said. I was a bag of nerves, even though my dad had taught me to drive in his cortina estate, of all things. In reality I drove him to the pub and back lol. I had 6 lessons with a city mad instructor, we spent most of the time talking footy.
Test day comes and this fella approaches me with the clipboard looking very official. I was just so nervous, I stalled the car lol. I had been driving for at least 5 years, backing my old mans car out the drive to wash it, then putting it back, but all of a sudden I forgot about clutch control and set off kangarooing up the road like a twat. I thought I'd failed so I just drove without thinking about it.
He didn't even do the emergency stop thing when they slam the clipboard onto the dash at random. I even got one of the signs wrong that he asked me about, in them days they opened a book up and asked what the sign was.
Fuck knows how, but I passed. I still wonder how to this day.
Bike test was a similar thing, he told me to follow a certain route, but I never saw him, I just rode round town for 20 mins then went back to the test centre. He asked me where the dipstick was then passed me. Happy days.
