I took my driving test in my Mini 850 Traveller. In Zimbabwe ‘passing your test’ in the mid 1980s normally involved the handing over of a wodge of cash to the instructor and taking him to the supermarket to do his shopping in return for a signed and stamped driving license.
I tried to buck the trend – and, literally, failed. As I settled into the driver’s seat and made a show of adjusting my mirrors and putting on my seatbelt, the instructor sitting next to me calmly informed me that I had failed the test. Quite a feat given I had yet to start the car let alone drive out of the car park.
Apparently I had not checked beneath the car for obstructions before setting off. My Mini, with its leaking suspension, sat just a few inches off the ground. I spat blood all the way home, L-plates still in place, wishing I had gone for the bung.
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