I avoided motorway driving for 11 years. One two-hour course changed everything

According to 2023 data, more than a third of drivers have a phobia of motorways, and it can stop them from driving on busy roads altogether. I was one of them My hands are hot as I approach the vehicle.

It's been five years since I last drove a car, but all that's about to change. On an unseasonably warm afternoon in September, I'm about to confront one of my long-standing fears: the motorway[1]. I passed my driving test[2] 11 years ago (third attempt, a few minors), but in that time, I have gone to great lengths to avoid the dreaded motorway.

It's easier to avoid than you might expect. It's not required during driving lessons[3] and isn't tested. A week after I passed my test I went off to university in London where owning a car is pointless.

This meant I had little time to immerse myself in the roads in the early days of my driving career. When I returned home, I drove the backstreets and quiet lanes of my semi-rural hometown. But the furthest I ever drove was 40 minutes to Bradford, our nearest city, whose A-roads were no bigger than two lanes.

As the years progressed, I began to find myself roped into longer-distance drives. During a girls' trip to Italy, I happily meandered on country lanes but swapped out with a more experienced friend as soon as the motorway approached. I shared the long drive up to Yorkshire from London, only swapping in once the busy roads were over.

Without ever having practised, I told myself I wasn't ready. I was a danger to other drivers. Quickly, 11 years passed since my test, and it felt too huge to suddenly take on.

It doesn't help that my family are also fearful drivers. None of them jumps at the opportunity to get in the car. They see it for what it is: a life and death responsibility.

Somewhere along the line, I picked up this mindset too. I'm afraid of complex roundabouts and sharp corners. I'm fearful of blind spots and busy slip roads.

But most of all, I'm afraid of motorways. Motorway phobia[4] is fairly common, and it even has a name: Amaxophobia. According to 2023 data, more than a third of drivers have it, and it can stop them from driving on busy roads altogether.

It's an inconvenient phobia to say the least. My avoidance of busy roads means I can't move house without relying on generous friends to drive me in a van. My fear of motorways also means I'm essentially too scared to drive anywhere I can't take the bus.

As a result, I now haven't driven since 2020. My licence is practically pointless. RED driving instructor Rob Watts says I'm not alone.

It's a fear he sees frequently in people of all ages. "The roads are much busier than they were 20 years ago. It's a lot more dangerous, which is why people are nervous," he explains. He also blames a lack of patience[5]. "People are always in a rush these days.

And if you're in a rush, you're driving at a higher speed, and then your behaviour could then impact others and put people off driving." He runs two-hour motorway refresher lessons for GBP75 to combat this, but he tells me they don't have a huge demand, which is part of the problem. Most drivers, like myself, are too embarrassed to take a refresher, or perhaps they aren't aware they even exist.

I wonder what type of person takes him up on these sorts of lessons. Are they just like me? "I'd say it's mainly women who book," he tells me. "But I did have one young man recently who was very nervous about motorways."

Nervous women

That Watts meets mostly nervous women doesn't surprise me. We have long proven to be more cautious drivers: a 2021 poll showed that 46 per cent of women felt nervous just when roads are busy, compared to 25 per cent of men. (Whereas men are disproportionately represented in convictions for motoring offences; in 2022, they accounted for 80 per cent of all such convictions in the UK.

In the same year, 39 women were convicted of causing death by dangerous or careless driving, compared to 247 men). I owe it to women, then, to face my fears. Watts, who tells me he has never been a nervous driver, has agreed to be my instructor for the day.

As I approach the car, he is just pulling up (I'm anxiously early). We meet on the edge of North Greenwich, by the O2 Arena, just inches away from the motorway. I can hear the threatening hum of its traffic as I wait.

Rob Watts, with his trusty VW, runs two-hour motorway refresher lessons for GBP75

Watts is friendly and calm as he casually tells me we are going to head straight from this side road into that motorway traffic.

I can feel my hands getting sweatier. I'm even more nervous to learn that I will be driving an automatic. I have never driven an automatic.

He picks up on my worried look. "It will be as easy as driving a go-kart if you're used to manual," he laughs. Automatics are growing in popularity. Data from the Driver and Vehicle Standards Agency (DVSA) found that last year, one in four tests were for automatic cars, meaning the driver is not licenced for a manual car.

Watts only teaches lessons in automatic cars, and he has a high demand. He predicts that learning to drive a manual transmission will soon be obsolete. "Manuals will be irrelevant," he says happily. "[Automatics] are much easier to drive." But, he tells me, it doesn't mean people pass their test any quicker.

Confronting the slip roads

As I climb in the car, I suddenly realise I no longer trust myself behind the wheel. He asks me to rate my confidence in my ability before we set off.

I give myself a 3/10. I catch some concern in his eyes. I put the keys in the ignition and just like that, we head off, bound for the M25[6], driving 70mph all the way to Gatwick.

I'm thrilled to learn I haven't forgotten how to drive. Or have I? I start to doubt myself again.

Am I steering properly? Am I breaking too hard? We drive slowly through some business parks before Watts agrees: it's time.

Without much pageantry, we are on an A-road and leaving London. I spend two and a half hours driving on the M25 and A20 with Watts in the passenger seat, offering reassuring advice as we go. It was Friday afternoon, and the roads were busy.

Within 20 minutes, the A-road morphed into a motorway, and I caught sight of my first slip road ahead of me. It all happened so quickly. "Now? Now?" I ask Watts impatiently as our car hurtles forward.

I'm about to exit the slip road and land right in the M25. "Yep, yep!" he says. And suddenly, there I am: driving safely at 65mph on the left lane of one of the busiest motorways in the UK[7]. The best bit: I feel completely fine.

The high dissipates when I see traffic slowed around a crashed car. "That's what happens when people get too close to each other," Watt says wisely. He gives me two crucial pieces of advice: always stay in the left lane as much as you can. And stay at least a six second count behind other vehicles.

Out of sheer fear, I have always stayed far away from the other drivers. Watts notices this and asks if I'm being cautious on purpose. No.

This is how I am. With that cue, he suggests we practise overtaking. He tells me confidence is essential for motorway driving.

This is when the real nerves kick in. He tells me to increase my speed. Not my natural inclination.

But I hit the pedal. "And now: move into the right lane. And-" he waits for me to manoeuvre. "Overtake." Easy. I suddenly start to wonder what I have been so scared of.

Death? Yes. But I'm also not a learner driver.

I have driven on roads countless times before, and I know the rules. I start to wonder why I don't trust myself like Watts does. For the entire lesson, I don't think I've looked at my instructor once.

My eyes are glued to the road. My fingers are stiff from gripping the wheel as if my life (our lives) depended on it. For the two hours we spent driving, my body was tense, but my mind was calm.

Having someone next to me, with the know-how to give me direction, meant that every move between lanes, and every turn off felt painless. Eventually, we arrive near Gatwick and we exit the A20, heading back to the city. Watts asks me to rate my ability again.

I offer a strong 6/10. "You have doubled your confidence in just a few hours," he says. I find myself chatting much more freely, filled with less existential dread than when I had first set off round that business park. Soon enough, we exit off the M25 and into Sidcup, a busy town on the outskirts of south London.

Amidst our chit-chat, I learn Watts was formerly a police officer, who is qualified to chase vehicles at full speed in live traffic. This is probably why he is unfazed as I fail to stop for a red light. He uses his passenger safety brake pedal suddenly and offers a final lesson of the day. "The hardest part of motorway driving at full speed is often returning to normal driving." I nod sagely.

Motorway anxiety feels like a rational fear, but I learn that, deep down, it is just self-doubt. Watts believes the cure is simple exposure therapy. By getting back on the horse as quickly as possible, I can understand the rhythm of motorways like the back of my hand.

Only then will I have nothing to fear. The other solution is staying away from other cars as much as possible. "If you can create that really big safety bubble around you so it gives you more time to deal with whatever you see ahead," he says. "That should hopefully give you more confidence to be able to deal with everything that comes in the future." I'm ready to get back on the motorway, and I'm not scared.

I could definitely benefit from another lesson but I've learnt there is such a thing as over-preparing.

To all my fellow nervous women: we know how to drive.

Peace of mind can only come if we rip off the plaster and trust ourselves.

References

1. ^ motorway (inews.co.uk)
2. ^ driving test (inews.co.uk)
3. ^ driving lessons (inews.co.uk)
4. ^ Motorway phobia (inews.co.uk)
5. ^ a lack of patience (inews.co.uk)
6. ^ M25 (inews.co.uk)
7. ^ one of the busiest motorways in the UK (inews.co.uk)