Why all women should learn to drive

COMMENT

In terms of life achievements, I’d put learning to drive pretty high up the rankings.

I admit I’m yet to experience the miracle of childbirth, but I’m fairly certain the sensation of holding your very own driver’s licence in your hot little hand comes close.

OK, perhaps not.

But at the very least, learning to drive must rank at the upper end of the success spectrum, somewhere near negotiating your first pay rise and buying your first home.

Thus, at age 16, with great excitement and trepidation, I seized an opportunity many women around the world are not afforded: the chance to learn how to get myself from A to B without having to rely on anyone or anything else.

Not stinky, crowded and sometimes scary public transport. Not my long-suffering parents, who were coming to the end of their tether when it came to lifts. Not taxis, which can often be an incredibly risky experience for young women. And certainly not any potential suitors: I’ll get myself to the cinema for 7:00pm, thank you very much.

I considered driving a privilege, not a chore, and in some ways, an ‘essential’. How could I call myself an adult if I’m incapable of reverse parking, or merging onto a freeway without having a nervous breakdown?

Learning the ropes wasn’t easy. My confidence was low, perhaps because – unlike my brother – I hadn’t grown up playing video games, or obsessing over Tonka Trunks or Hot Wheels. The sensation of having my hands on a steering wheel was an entirely foreign one.

But, with the help of my very patient parents and a lovely instructor named Graham, I completed my 120 hours of required experience (Every. Last. One) and passed my test.

I soon realised this simple but life-changing skill was my ticket to freedom. Staying out much later suddenly became an option. It became a no-brainer to quickly agree to things which previously required forever to logistically manage.

And I felt a rush of pride after realizing I was now great in a crisis because I could get myself…well, almost anywhere.

Sadly, many women can’t or won’t get to experience these little victories in their lifetime.

For example, I was stunned to learn it is still llegal for women to drive in Saudi Arabia.

For others, the financial burden of buying and running a car will forever be beyond their reach, so what is the point of learning to drive?

My father revealed his mother – my grandmother - never got her drivers’ licence. In her time, cars were a luxury and, working as a nurse, she relied on the bus to get to her early shifts.

If you’re lucky enough to be able to afford a car, however, the process of buying, owning and maintaining it can teach you invaluable lessons about money management. Like how to save, budget, pay insurance or take out a loan...or haggle with sales staff.

But for many women, driving raises confidence issues. My mother’s mother rarely had the chance to drive and obtained her licence out of necessity when she had children. She did her driving test with my mother and her brother in the backseat, drove a column shift manual and, as she was nervous turning across traffic to the right, tried to take routes only requiring left turns.

On the other hand, my mother’s father was a Swedish engineer who raced motorcycles and built his own car, so he made sure my mother not only learned how to drive and change a flat tyre, but also how to hot wire a car and do handbrake turns.

My grandfather’s forward-thinking approach was rare during the 1950s and 60s and unfortunately remains rare today. Just recently one of my female colleagues at motoring.com.au received a press release from Renault touting a nail polish range which matches its cars’ body colours so lady drivers can pretty up their digits while also covering up the bumps and scrapes their cars will incur. Because, you know, bumps and scrapes are apparently inevitable for female motorists.

It’s this kind of stereotype – the age-old ‘women can’t drive’ adage – which puts female drivers on the back foot.

Subaru rally car driver Molly Taylor says an “expectation and fear of being judged” can often discourage women from getting behind the wheel.

“But the reality is so different,” Taylor says. “There’s no reason why a man and woman can’t physically drive a car with the same skill. The more women we see driving, the more this shifts the perception, and hopefully gives other women more confidence.”

Taylor, 29, who last year became the first woman to win the Australian Rally Championship, learned to drive while working for her dad at a rally driving school.

“I was lucky in that … I had an opportunity to practice handling a car off the road in a safe environment,” Taylor revealed.

“This made me much more relaxed and competent when I was then on the road with other road users. I really can’t recommend enough some kind of advanced driver training at this early stage of learning how to drive.”

She says her career behind the wheel has taught her the importance of persistence and continually pushing yourself outside your comfort zone.

“The more I do things that are a bit daunting, the more I grow as a person and am able to create new opportunities which may not have existed otherwise,” she explains.

Of course, women deserve the right to choose whether they learn to drive or not, but society should be equipping them with the resources and confidence to make that choice – and that doesn’t mean offering them custom nail polish colours.

In the meantime, you’ll catch me happily zipping around, enjoying my freedom, paying my own insurance and registration bills and occasionally playing designated driver to my group of friends.

Only one challenge remains: learning how to drive a manual. Watch this space.