Like nearly every 16-year-old, I couldn't wait to drive. I wanted to feel the unbridled power of a decade-old Fiat Punto under me. I wanted to push all 1.2 litres of sheer mechanical power to the limit.

I wanted to be able to stamp my foot and for something to happen. (The latter occurs far too rarely for my liking at home.)

Of course to do all this, I needed three things: a car, insurance and a provisional driving licence.

I never really got to the stage of buying/hijacking a car and everyone knows about high insurance costs but even my quest for a provisional licence has proved treacherous.

Just to quickly explain. Gaining a provisional licence involves an eye test and passing a computerised exam called the "Driver Theory Test".

As soon as I turned 17, I booked a place in the local opticians for my test.

After the optician established that I could follow him into the office without the help of a stick and/or Labrador, I was given a certificate which testified that I could indeed see.

Delighted with my recently certified good vision, I practically skipped out of the opticians, knocking over a small display case on the way as the optician looked on with a worried frown. Soon I could be knocking over people.

My "I can see" certificate came with a caveat however. It said that after 30 days, my eye-test would become invalid and I would have to take the test again.

"Right so," I thought, "I'd better get cracking". Then, I promptly did nothing.

I watched some TV, went to school and generally sat about. This continued for approximately 30 days.

So far I had failed in simply applying for my driving test. It did not bode well.

I persevered nonetheless. I began preparations for the Driver Theory Test. I had a friend copy a CD of likely questions on the exam. In the exam, you get 40 multiple-choice questions out of a possible 743.

To pass, I would have to get 35 correct.

The questions range from "What does this signal mean?" beside a picture of a red traffic light, to calculating the "stopping distance of a car going at 60mph on a wet road".

I did the mock-test six times, each time getting 34 out of 40, a tantalising one under what I needed to pass. I don't mind admitting this test was beginning to scare me.

At some point just after the last test, I did what I normally do and lost interest in something I wasn't very good at anyway. I began to lie to myself to the tune of "why would I want a car anyway?", "they're so expensive" and "sure isn't the bus far easier?". I even managed to convince myself of these salient points.

This self-deception was working brilliantly until one day I spent a whole hour in the lashing rain waiting for the number seven bus to the city to make an appearance.

That's when I realised, exams, eye-tests and paperwork aside, I want a car. Now.

Michael Pidgeon (17) is a student at Blackrock College

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