Baby, You Can Drive My Car

One of the more frustrating things about my move to Sweden has been the process of getting a Swedish driver's license. Now I've heard plenty of gripes about the DMV in my day (and had more than a few myself), but I'm here to tell you that even the worst DMV office in the States has got nothing on its Swedish counterpart, Vägverket. Immigrants to Sweden from other EU-member states, Switzerland, and Japan are allowed to trade in their old driver's licenses for a Swedish one, but those of us hailing from elsewhere have to start from scratch and jump through all the hoops before we can be approved as legally-licensed drivers. And, oh, what hoops they are.

Nearly five years after moving to Sweden, I finally embarked on the path to a Swedish driver's license this past summer. The first step was applying for a learner's permit, which would allow me to practice with an instructor in the car. I had to fill out and send in an application, complete with details about any previous driver's licenses I had held, a detailed medical history, and verification of an eye exam done by a licensed optician. I also had to submit the name of my instructor (in my case, my husband--no matter that I got my first driver's license years before he got his) for Vägverket's approval. A couple of weeks and about $30 US later, I was an official "practice driver."

Next up was the driving theory test. I shelled out another fifty bucks for study materials and started learning my way around the traffic rules and regulations. I was dismayed to discover that I would be responsible for knowing not only the road signs and traffic laws, but also simple mechanics and car repair, the effects of traffic on the environment, weight and other rules and restrictions for hauling a trailer and/or carrying a load, some basic psychology, a little first aid, and statistics regarding traffic accidents, injuries, and fatalities. Egad.

After a week or two of studying, I scheduled a time to take the test, a seventy-question, fifty-minute nightmare. I think it may well have been the hardest test I've ever taken. One of the questions was, "If your car has the license-plate number ABC 123, during which month or months must you have it inspected?" Excuse me?! What does that have to do with knowing how to drive? Anyway, you get a notice in the mail when it's time to take your car in, so what's the sense in cluttering up your brain with the license-plate formula? The first time I took the test (yes, read on, there would be a second time), I failed it by one question. And it cost me twenty-five dollars. I went home, did a LOT more studying, and re-took the test the following week. I passed that time, and paid another twenty-five bucks for the privilege.

The theory test behind me, I was ready for the skid course, a requirement for all drivers up here in the Frozen North. Having grown up in the Rocky Mountain West, I have a fair amount of experience on icy roads, but like I said, there are hoops. For this little bit of fun I had to travel sixty miles and spend an entire afternoon driving on a simulated skid track being harangued all the while by an instructor who didn't even try to keep his chauvinism in check. Oh yeah, and I got to pay him two hundred dollars, too.

Finally, finally, two days after I drove the skid course, I took the actual driving test (cost: $150). It was late October then, and the morning of my test I woke up to the first snow of the season. Terrific. The roads had turned into a nasty, slushy mess by the time I drove mid-morning, and that only added to my nervousness. I lucked out, though, and got a nice examiner who has a kid in my daughter's third-grade class, and we chatted amiably throughout the test. To my great relief, he didn't even ask me to parallel park. At the end of the half-hour, I was awarded a brand-spanking-new Swedish driver's license (cost: $25), and the right to take the blasted "Practice Driver" sign (cost: $10) from my rear window. Sweet victory, at a total cost of around five hundred dollars.

The whole business was a big pain in my, er ... neck (not to mention my pocketbook), but from the other side I can say that it was well worth the trouble. Gone are the days of depending on my husband or public transportation to take me where I want to go. These days I can join my friends in town for an impromptu coffee meet-up, go grocery shopping by myself, and make appointments without consulting my husband's schedule first. I've noticed, too, that I'm getting a much better feel for the area where I live since I've been driving it on my own. It's like I'm a grown-up again now that I've gotten back some of my independence, and it feels great!