A360 and B390

From March last year, I would travel the same route to school every day. When the summer of 2010 peaked, bombing across the Salisbury Plains in a ’96 Renault Clio became something of a guilty pleasure. I would wear sunglasses and wind down the windows manually even if the weather really wasn’t that nice. Fitting proper speakers into the car was also a problem, but it never stopped me blasting out gangster rap when speeding through remote Wiltshire villages.  25 miles and 40 minutes of tinny music and bad shades – it was obvious, I was living the dream.

Yesterday, I took exactly the same route to school and noticed something different. Although I did wear sunglasses and played music, it wasn’t quite as loud and speed limits were adhered to. Instead of ignorantly cruising through Shrewton and Chitterne, I paid attention to exactly where I was driving through. This was fortunate as through one village a pair of policemen stood trying to catch speeding drivers, but this isn’t the point. Did my new found respect for the old route help me reflect on times of old?

Because I went to Warminster School for four years, I wasn’t the only one taking this route. I remember the many times my mum offered to ferry me back and forth across the Plains.  I remember when my Granddad picked me up once after school in the middle of a storm. On the way back, his windscreen wipers stopped working – I remember leaning out of the window the entire way trying to get a better view – we got home safely, but I had a cold for weeks. I remember when my mum drove me and a friend to the Year 11 Summer Ball of 2008. It was the first time either of us had worn proper dinner jackets and we both had no idea how to do a bowtie.

Of course, memories from the journey aren’t limited to before I drove it myself. There was many a time when I drove behind a friend racing him back to Salisbury. He also had a Renault Clio and an equally reckless disregard for road safety. We were lucky to never have gotten caught, or at worst, crashed the cars.

But this journey represents something much more than memories for me. It took me four attempts to pass my driving test in 2009, but when I eventually passed in December, it symbolised a milestone for me. It was the first step to independence. The feeling of being able to drive wherever you wanted and the thrill of freedom was palpable.

It is this that made me act in such an ignorant manner a year ago. I wasn’t driving a Renault Clio, it felt like a Ferrari. Sunglasses blurred my identity – I was anonymous and could go anywhere. Do anything. In retrospect, driving to school was almost as satisfying as being at school itself. Yesterday, driving along that route allowed me to feel that thrill again.