Spain Said, "That’s Cute."

Photo by Alex Chernenko on Unsplash

I’ve been studying for my Spanish driver’s license for months.

I’ve been a driver for 28 years.

No, really.

If you move to Spain from the United Kingdom, there is a process for exchanging your driver’s license. But if you’re from the United States, you have six months to get your Spanish driver’s license as a legal resident of Spain. (Realistically speaking, it can take months to get into a driving school with an English-speaking instructor.)

You might be thinking, What’s the big deal? You’ve been driving forever.

But, mis amigos, Spain — and, more broadly, Europe — takes driving a bit more seriously than we do in the U.S. That’s not a dig at the U.S. As a nation, we’re very car-centric, and if you don’t get your license, you’re going to be fairly immobile unless you’re lucky enough to be born somewhere with great public transit like Chicago or New York City. Thus, getting a license in the U.S. is relatively easy. The written test isn’t that difficult, and the driving test itself is pretty straightforward (except for parallel parking, which, let’s be honest, everyone sucks at unless they live in a big city for a period of time).

I have some fears about this process.

1. I have a chronic eye condition that left me with one good eye. Despite my ophthalmologist’s multiple attempts to assuage my fears, I’m still worried I won’t pass the eye exam.

2. The written test is hard — like, really hard. It’s not just the different speed limits, blood alcohol thresholds, or car seat rules. You also have to wrap your head around the metric system. And as estadounidenses, let’s be honest: most of us barely know how many kilometers are in a mile.

3. The actual driving test is conducted with your instructor (I’ll explain that in a moment), the proctor, and a car outfitted with dual controls for driver and passenger.

For someone prone to anxiety, this setup is a recipe for a panic attack.

While the drivers on the roads here can be a little … unpredictable, there is a method to the madness of this process. The result is fewer accidents and fatalities than in the U.S. I know, I know. The first thing most people say is, “But the U.S. population is much larger!” It is, but over the last few decades, Spain has reduced fatalities by 86%. So, whatever Spain is doing, it seems to be working.

In addition to the written and driving tests, you must also take driving lessons through an autoescuela. The school is also responsible for providing the vehicle for your driving test, so your instructor will accompany you during the test. The car must have dual controls, which means it’s practically impossible to take the test without using a driving school.

In other words, if things go sideways, the proctor can take over from the passenger seat.

Despite my decades of driving experience, the rules are different, and it has me worried.

There are several tools available online to help you practice for the written portion of the test. I’m using Practica Test’s paid version to study. The good news is that you can take the written portion in English, albeit badly translated in some cases. And Practica Test is affordable at just about €50 for a six-month subscription.

Getting to Spain is a big deal — but it’s the little life stuff that creeps up that’s just as important. Having a driver’s license means a higher degree of freedom of movement. Public transit here is amazing, but there are definitely times when I long for a car to get somewhere faster.

Cross your fingers that I pass. I’m hoping to take the written portion this fall. I’ll keep you posted.

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