When the summer months began, just like thousands of other young people, I decided that it was time I got myself a driving license. I had a fear of driving in the winter - with its eternal darkness and roads slick with ice.
My student group was, like most others, about 30 people strong - but only on paper. In reality, only something like a dozen students actually turned up for any given lecture, and out of these one half at most was comprised of regulars. I had, of course, known about the possibility of simply "buying" my driver's license by giving the right person a hefty bribe; almost all of my friends had chosen that route, and had even offered to hook me up with the right person. I was, however, filled with determination: there was no way I would cheat when it came to the safety of both my life and the lives of others. Still, it came as no surprise that less than half of the class attended the course, since it's much easier to give bribes within the driving school and having them register you at the GAI (road police) stations than doing it all on your own. What did manage to catch me off guard was the instructor.
Our first lesson began routinely enough; here's first, second, third gears, your clutch, braking and gas pedals, speedometer, odometer, all that jazz. Minutes later, my instructor asked me if I would be needing any help with my exams. "Help?" I asked. "Oh, you know, help, just to make sure you pass everything the first time." He went on with the tone of a concerned uncle: "Driving all that way just to fail is very nerve-wracking, no good for a nice girl like you." I refused quietly, still in vague shock that he was being so outright, telling him that I could probably work it out on my own. My instructor shrugged and we carried on with the lesson. Out of the subsequent 20 classes, he brought up the subject of "help" at least 7 times (I counted) despite my blunt refusals.
For someone who has been terrified of driving all her life, I did a pretty good job getting the hang of all the mechanical stuff that is involved in operating a one-ton piece of machinery, with none of the training area presenting any problems.
On the day of the driving school's internal exams, I confidently made my way to the school, located my instructor (who would be taking the test), plopped down into the seat, adjusted it to make myself comfortable and ready for the exam (though this didn't include seatbelts, the use of which my instructor had practically forbidden from the beginning), and took off. I completed all the maneuvres just like I usually did (no knocking over cones or any other problems). Upon bringing the car to a nice stop, my instructor me that I had failed the test, failed miserably. Disgruntled, I realized that regardless of how many times I would take the test the result would be the same, and that every re-examination would cost me. I finally gave in: I forked over my 1,500 rubles (60 USD) and got a stamped scrap of paper saying I'd passed.
Now on to the theory, which I knew like the back of my hand. But the instructor had made it clear that the GAI wouldn't make my life easy either - I'd probably get past the computer theory test, but I stood no chance with the low-speed maneuvering exam, and even less with the actual road test. Moreover, the dreaded office of the GAI driver examination facility was over 2 hours away from me (possibly because the driving school had some kind of agreement with the GAI office in question, as people usually take their exams based on where they are registered in Moscow, though that's just my own personal speculation), and if I failed I'd need to pay 600 rubles for each subsequent exam. Apart from all this, I also had pressing personal business that required me to leave Moscow for a while, and... I'll be honest: despite whatever rationalizing I might have done, I ended up slipping 12,000 rubles (480 USD) into an envelope with my details scribbled on it. I handed the envelope over to my driving instructor. My only excuse is that I simply did not want to get tangled up in what I knew would be a hassle lasting weeks, possibly even months.
The very next week I made my way to the GAI, along with about 30 other people from the same driving school. I was ushered into a small computer room and assigned to a PC. I knew the answers to all the questions on the screen, but I could have pressed any number - or any other number besides the 1-4 of the answers; any answer I entered into the computer would end up marked as "correct." An hour later my group was directed to the road test, bypassing the low-speed maneuvering test entirely (indicating that every single member of my group had also paid for their licenses), where we spent another 2 hours waiting for the GAI officers and their cars. My name was called out and I sat at the wheel of a Lada. Knowing everything had been arranged made me calm, but having driven a Daewoo for the entire course of my training with my instructor, I realized I simply wouldn't be able to go very far in this piece of junk. During my epiphany, I ignored the hand brake, forgot to check my rear- and side-view mirrors, and made other obvious mistakes that would in any other circumstances have given the examiner enough reasons to fail me on the spot. Instead, the examiner by my side took care of the hand brake for me, and essentially guided me for the first 5 seconds. I was trembling a little by this stage, suddenly forgetting which gear to use for which speed, and let the car roll steadily down the middle of the road. 100 meters later the examiner told me to get out and come back for my license the next morning. And so I did.
According to the traffic inspectorate, in the last 7 months, 8,396 people have been injured in traffic accidents and 484 have been killed, including 652 and 6 children respectively. Knowing that many of the people around me had not even bothered to take classes, but simply bribed officials somewhere to get their license without any previous preparation is extremely distressing. And while there are obviously no official figures concerning the number of driving licenses that have been paid for, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to suppose that it is these "fake" drivers that play a major part in Russia's road accidents.
Having invested enough time into getting to grips with driving I shouldn't feel any shame in paying for my license. But the truth is, I do.
