In Spain, you have to renew your driving licence every ten years, and every five years after the age of 60. Mine expired on my birthday. Since I spent most of my birthday in the recuperation ward after my operation, I wasn’t in a rush to renew it for obvious reasons, but by June I began to feel that it would be nice to get it sorted out. I ought to be able to drive an automatic, and once I could move about on crutches, I’d be able to get in and out of a car by myself.
Renewing your driving license includes passing a short medical, and there are various centres which will do it. I phoned up to ask about my situation before I booked the test, and I was told it would be the normal checks, and the doctor would add any restrictions they feel fit, like automatic or electric cars only.
So I went.
The medical started off with questions like, “How much do you drink?, Have you seen a psychiatrist lately? Have you been in any serious accidents in the last 5 years?” plus a coordination test a bit like a video game where you have to “drive” two “vehicles” down wiggly roads. You don’t have to do it perfectly, thank goodness, but everybody hates that bit and I was worried that my concentration would be off. In the end, I did better than average. Then I was passed over to a doctor who checked my blood pressure and eyesight including how I did with low contrast. Finally, he asked what had happened to my leg, passed tissues and didn’t make me feel stupid for needing them. Oh, and he signed me off for an automatic or electric car for three years – ones that don’t have a clutch pedal, which is logical since I can’t operate one. Yay!
Then the receptionist attempted to fill in the forms to issue my licence, but found the drop-down menus didn’t include “Fewer legs than last time.” So I needed to go and see the Department of Transport. I tried to book an appointment online but you have to say what you want to do from a drop-down menu, and “Fewer legs than last time,” wasn’t an option there either. So Carlos went down in person and persuaded the licence people to talk directly to the medical centre without us having to be piggy in the middle. It all got sorted, I just had to book an appointment and go down there with a passport photo and a credit card to pay.
I had terrible trouble navigating the website to get the appointment, but my friend Petra showed me the bit I’d missed., and today I did it. To my enormous delight, I finally have a driving licence.
And now we go back to our automatic vs electric car argument. (I must find out how much a home charging station would cost.)
