Marianne Kavanagh fears letting her 17-year-old behind the wheel of a car but, it seems, insurers fear it more.
Bumpy road ahead: Marianne Kavanagh keeps hold of the keys as son Joe gets a feel of the driver’s seat in the family BMW he is not yet able to drive.
My son Joe is 17. He wants to learn to drive. This seems reasonable - it’s a rite of passage. We all know the deal. Terrified adults stamp on imaginary brakes while teenagers veer around cul-de-sacs, narrowly missing bollards. My husband, who used to practise kangaroo jumps at an old airfield near Cambridge, terrified his dad; I caused anguish to both my father and my friend’s mother, who kindly took me out in her Mini, apparently deaf to the sound of crashing gears.
But now that it’s my turn for a white-knuckle ride, I’m not so sure. It’s not my safety I’m worried about, but Joe’s. Maybe there were fewer cars around in the dim and distant days of my L-plates, but nowadays young drivers seem to be dicing with death. The statistics are horrifying. One in eight licence-holders is under 25, but this age group accounts for one in four drivers killed on the road. Male drivers aged 17-20 are 10 times more likely to be killed or seriously injured than more experienced drivers.
Norwich Union recently released research showing that crash rates among young drivers are rapidly worsening - claims have risen by 300 per cent in the past five years. In the light of all this, it’s not surprising that Sir Liam Donaldson, the Chief Medical Officer, has called for the blood alcohol limit for drivers aged 17-20 to be cut to zero.
“Joe,” I say, hoping to negotiate, “why do you want to learn to drive?”
“Because it’s cool,” he says. “And because public transport is unreliable.”
I can’t argue with either of these. “But what about the statistics?”
He gives me an old-fashioned look: “It wouldn’t happen to me.”
When you’re young, you think you’re invincible.
Reluctantly I agree that we should set things in motion. First step, provisional licence. Second step, insurance. My husband searches online. The first quote is £6,000; the next is £15,000. “I think it’s because of the car,” he says. Our D-reg BMW - seats sagging, rust gathering at the wheel hubs - is long past its glory days. But it’s too risky for a novice, apparently. Our own insurers won’t even quote for Joe to drive it, not even as a named driver on our policy, until he’s 18 and has held a licence for a year.
Perhaps we should change the car. We do our sums and fall silent. Perhaps a few driving lessons are enough, we think, noting with some anxiety that in London you’re talking nearly £30 an hour.
This is turning into a nightmare. I don’t want Joe to drive because I have visions of him wrapped round a lamppost. It’s hard enough now, lying awake as he makes his way home by bus; if he was at the wheel of a car, I don’t think I’d bother going to bed at all.
But if he’s going to learn, I want him to have as much experience as possible. Once you’ve mastered the basics, you’re only just beginning. You have to learn how to drive in the dark, in the rain, on ice, in snow; you have to cope with plastic bags slapping on the windscreen, cats shooting in front of your wheels, toddlers stumbling into the road. In London, you have to be alert to cars in front slamming on their brakes because of a speed camera, unexpected U-turns and drivers playing chicken as they approach you at 60mph in a narrow street with parked cars on either side.
But how is Joe going to build up this vital experience if the insurance premiums are impossible to afford?
“There’s a real paradox here,” says Robert Gifford, executive director of PACTS (Parliamentary Advisory Council for Transport Safety). “At a point when young people are most likely to be supervised, it is extremely expensive to insure them.” There’s a widespread call for greater training.
The Department for Transport is currently consulting on proposals to reform the driving test, and the road safety charity Brake is campaigning for a novice period after the test, which would carry certain restrictions - such as not driving late at night or not carrying passengers under 21. (There’s nothing like a few mates in the back to make you forget everything you’ve learnt.)
But none of this reform carries any weight unless learner drivers can afford the one thing they need - more time on the road.
One new company, Young Marmalade, has seen the gap in the market and seized the initiative. It believes that the risks are lower if you’re driving a new car, rather than an old banger, and offers a combined deal of car purchase and insurance. Provisional licence holders are included in the scheme and start building up their own no-claims bonus immediately. It’s a great idea - but a new car? Is that what it takes to get Joe on the road?
Joe looks at the picture of the Fiat Grande Punto. I look back at him.
“The one thing we haven’t discussed,” I say after a pause, “is the environmental impact. What about a nice new bicycle?”
Source: The Telegraph website
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