I’ve driven a car only handful of times in Spain–and most of those were in the past month. Under the supervision of a driving instructor. Even though I’ve been driving for 30 years.

Some Spaniards I talk to are surprised to learn there is no reciprocity with the United States on the matter of drivers’ licenses.

Now, six months into this process, I know why: it’s much harder here.

For those of you that dreaded your own driver’s test because you had to parallel park, that’s the least of my worries over here. I lived in Boston for five years. I can parallel park.

I thought the most fearsome part would be the roundabouts.

But roundabouts are not my problem.

Being safe is my problem.

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Here in Spain, only after passing medical, psychological, and written tests, can one take the practical driving test. But you can only do so through a driving school. In their car. With your instructor in the passenger seat. And the examiner behind them.

Which is probably why I failed my first test: my instructor later explained I didn’t inch out far enough at a stop sign in order to check for oncoming traffic. How the examiner would know this from the back seat of the car is still a mystery to me.

So though the test is supposed to take approximately 25 minutes, I was finished in five. Because not inching out sufficiently is an automatic fail.

Is there even such a thing as an “automatic fail” in the US? I’ve been driving for 30 years. I don’t remember.

For my second attempt, I was given a time I could not make due to prior (unmovable) commitments. I asked my instructor if the time could be changed.

Nope.

Though she did try.

She said the driving school called the driving department all morning and couldn’t get through. “The only way to get out it is if you have a note from a doctor that you can’t take it.” Otherwise, you forfeit the appointment and have to pay all over again.

Thankfully, we know a guy.

For privacy and security reasons, I will not divulge too many details. But on the morning of my supposed driving test, I walked into said doctor’s office. This wasn’t his first time writing such a letter, he told me.

Five minutes later, I texted my letter to the powers that be and waited for them to assign my next appointment.

My second test (2.5 weeks after the first) was scheduled to take place during morning rush hour.

Or so I thought.

Based on the view from my driver’s seat, 8:15am is not rush hour here. Or no one goes to work on the highways to which I was directed.

The second test lasted longer than the first. But again, I failed. Points were taken off for the following:

1. When I make a turn, I sometimes turn with one hand in the “underhand” position inside the steering wheel.
2. When I have the right of way and a pedestrian darts out into a crosswalk, then darts back, then out again, I err on the side of safety and just stop and let her go.
3. I was driving in the right lane of a road that had two lanes going in the same direction. At the end of the road, I saw a stop sign on the left. I missed that there was a yield sign on the right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a thing in the US. In my thirty years of driving. And as the roadway was clear, I lost points for stopping.
4. There was a forth error, for which I take responsibility.

If I’d made only three of these “mistakes,” I would have passed.

It didn’t help that the examiner said, “Unfortunately, in this country, we don’t look at how you do overall as a driver,” explaining that I drive perfectly fine. There are just some details. . .

Right, I thought to myself. I have to follow the rules instead of erring on the side of safety. And keep my hands on the outside of the wheel.

I was a bit embarrassed but when I told a few close friends, they unanimously agreed that the driving test here is ridiculous. So I started telling more people. And no matter if they are ex-pats or Spaniards, they all could relate. “Most people take it at least three times.” “I failed it twice.” “At least you’re almost there. I’m scared to even start the process!”

My first thought when I failed a second time was,”Third time’s a charm.”

Apparantly that phrase doesn’t hold true in Spain.

This time a point was taken off every time my hand went inside the steering wheel on a turn. The examiner told me that driving this way is “very dangerous.”

Really? I thought. I’ve been driving that way for thirty years and it hasn’t been a problem!

One report from 2022 says there are about 100,000 people driving illegally in this country. I wonder what percentage of those are American ex-pats who don’t want to attempt the Spanish licensing process?

I’ve discussed this with some not-licensed-but-driving-in-Spain-anyway Americans. Should they get pulled over, they dumb-down their Spanish or play the “dumb tourist.” Should they get in an accident and the insurance company finds out they were illegally driving, these ex-pats will just pay out-of-pocket for damages. Fines for driving with a license not recognized in this country are only up to 200 Euros.

I could do that.

But I went to Catholic school.

It’s hard for me to break rules.

So I’ll keep trying.

Until I pass.

Or decide the money I put towards these driving tests would be better spent on driving tickets should I ever be caught. . .

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License to Drive Part 1 can be found here.

License to Drive Part 2 can be found here.