Motoring in Malta - a foreigner's view

My father worked for a well-known insurance company for all of his working life and I got a good insight over the years into the motor accident cases his company covered.

When I reached my 17th birthday, I got my provisional driver's licence. I received driving tuition from my father although I taught myself the basics over the previous three years on back roads and in fields. In Ireland, where I was brought up, this was a common pastime for young motor enthusiasts who had access to their mothers' or fathers' car.

I went for my first driving test when I was 18. I arrived at the driving test centre with my father's Fiat 125S, one of the few cars at the time with a fifth gear and disc brakes on all wheels. Like most 18-year-olds, I was a cocky young man and regarded the forthcoming test as a piece of cake.

The general format of the driving test entailed an oral examination of the Highway Code before going out in the car with the examiner. He directed me through busy built-up areas as well as carrying out three point turns and reversing around corners.

At one point during the test, the examiner asked me if the speedometer worked. I confidently told him everything in the car was in good working order. I then looked at the speedometer and realised I was doing 40 mph in a 30 mph zone. The examiner then said: "Do you realise that at 30 mph it takes a car X amount of yards to stop?" I replied by saying that this car would stop in a shorter distance because it had vacuum servo brakes. A pregnant silence ensued and I slowly realised that this was not going to be my day.

Back at the test centre, the examiner informed me that I had failed. I repeated the test six months later in my mother's humble Mini with a wiser head on my shoulders, only to be told that I had passed but I was a little too cautious.

I bought my first car when I was 21. It was a six-month-old Fiat 128 3P Special Series and it was my pride and joy. My father told me that within six months I would be involved in a motor accident. What he meant was that according to the motor insurance statistics, a young man of my age, driving his own car, would be involved in an accident whether it was his own fault or somebody else's. I did subsequently have two minor accidents many years later and both in company cars. I was travelling 35,000 miles a year, so I would put that down to the law of averages.

I now spend all my free time here in Malta, which amounts to about five to six months of the year. I love living here for many reasons, mainly for the climate, the wonderful pace of life and the character of the people, to name but a few.

I am slowly becoming immune to the standard of driving here. When I drive, I try to anticipate the impossible, which tends to happen about every 10 minutes. It is quite funny at times and most incidents pass with the usual calm chaos that is characteristic of the Maltese.

What really scares me are the boy racers and frustrated rally drivers who drive dangerously fast through busy streets, with total disregard for other motorists or more importantly, pedestrians and often unheeded by nearby on-duty policemen.

They overtake on blind bends and corners totally unaware of the dangers or consequences. I observe these frequent incidents from a safe distance with my heart in my mouth, praying that my loved ones or I will never encounter these kamikaze travelling in the opposite direction.

A friend of mine was fined recently by a traffic warden for having his fog lights switched on during early morning rush hour. This incident is typical of many minor traffic offences publicised in your column by disgruntled readers.

It seems to me that a zero tolerance culture exists for minor traffic offences when the real dangerous issues are not being addressed. Is safety of life on the road not a priority when a set of fog lights in one's rear view mirror could be treated as a nuisance? I don't wish to be flippant when I draw attention to a minor offence in the context of the fatalities we read about and sometimes witness, but the facts, I respectfully suggest, beg reflection.