Ben Machell on going the full cabbie behind the wheel

Our columnist's bit on the side

Ben Machell30 June 2016

I’ve had to start driving around London recently, which has been an interesting experience because I’m an absolutely horrible driver and find the whole thing terrifying. For many years my girlfriend took sole charge of this responsibility because a) she’s very confident behind the wheel and b) she’s one of those rare people you meet in London who actually grew up in London and, as a result, has that kind of swashbuckling, you-only-live-once, hey-let’s-try-a-shortcut, why-are-those-police-helicopters-pursuing-me-again approach to negotiating the capital’s traffic. But sick of being the Morgan Freeman to my Jessica Tandy — and don’t even bother trying to pretend you’ve not seen Driving Miss Daisy — I’ve been encouraged to sit in the driver’s seat and perhaps even get out of third gear now and then.

I’m not going to lie — I never really thought I’d have to do this. I’d never even owned a car until a few years ago when we splashed out on a nippy third-hand Volkswagen, which later turned out to have tinted windows. I say ‘later turned out’ because neither of us actually noticed this snazzy little detail until we parked-up in some Bethnal Green backstreet to find half-a-dozen drug addicts shuffling towards us.

This, it transpires, happens a lot when you’re sporting tints. And I do feel kind of bad when I see their faces drop as we reveal ourselves not to be seasoned drug dealers bearing knapsacks full of crack but rather the kind of annoying bourgeois couple you see on adverts for takeaway apps or zippy German hatchbacks.

But that’s the least of my worries. As I pootle over to visit my in-laws on a Sunday morning I feel like Tom Hardy in Mad Max, only with the potential to cause even more explosions. And that’s just Holloway Road. What happens when I’m faced with Blackwall Tunnel? The M25? The Hammersmith Flyover? Places I only thought existed on radio traffic bulletins but which are now all too real. My only option is to go native, the full cabbie: pink polo shirt, grade one all over and a hands-free phone for updating other anxious drivers. ‘Best avoid Highbury & Islington, mate — there’s a roundabout. And some cars. Y’know… traffic. Total nightmare.’

Let me know if you want to swap numbers.

Follow Ben on Twitter @ben_machell