My first driving lesson at 33: It was one L of a start to my driving career

Clutch, pause, engage... Iron Man Conall Ó Fátharta shows the Iron Lady, Margaret Thatcher, his steely side, as he takes to the road for his first driving lesson

I had been in the car 45 minutes and I was driving. Why had I not done this when I was 16?

According to legend, the Iron Lady, former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, said any man who finds himself on a bus after the age of 30 can count himself a failure in life.

That’s that then. It’s official. As I approach my 33rd year, by the standards of a giant of 20th century politics, I am a failure.

I have done many things and travelled many places but I have never managed it under my own steam. At least not under my own mechanically propelled steam.

I never needed to. There was always a lift, a bus, someone offering a crossbar or any form of alternative transport that meant I didn’t have to take the plunge and learn how to drive.

That officially ended this week thanks to the patience of Des O’Neill, Top Gear School of Motoring, who guided me through my first driving lesson on a quiet road in Mahon.

To say I was nervous beforehand would be an understatement. Dread would be a more accurate description.

I needn’t have worried. Des had seen it all before, from budding Lewis Hamilton’s to the veritable Mr Bean’s. He said I would likely slot in comfortably around the middle. That would do me. On the driving front — I’ll take middle of the road.

After taking me through the legal requirements — I have to take a minimum of 12 lessons — pointing out mirrors, blind spots and what every gadget and lever in the car was for, it was time to sit in the seat I had avoided for so long.

It felt alien. I was a fish out of water but after some gentle coaxing, I had managed to start the car. Before I knew it, I had indicated put it into gear and was out on the open road. Yes, a public road which contained other cars and even buses.

My next step was to move up into second gear and pick up a tad more speed. I managed it without a hitch.

Everything Des had told me was staying in my head. I hadn’t ‘conked out’ or stalled the car once. I was using my mirrors, checking my blind spots, not crossing my hands. I had been in the car 45 minutes and I was driving. Why had I not done this when I was 16?

After what seemed like just a few minutes, I was indicating and pulling in. Clutch down, brake, into neutral, handbrake up and that was that. “See? Not so bad,” Des said. He was right, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was pretty damn enjoyable. I am even looking forward to lesson number two.

The Iron Lady would approve.

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