
Road Trip: Taranaki Surf Highway
From the mountain to the coast, we take a road trip around Surf Highway 45 in Taranaki.
My oldest son, Ben, recently turned 16. For me, it was marked not by the usual teenage boy rites of passage like trying to grow a moustache, but by the reality that my baby was ready to learn to drive.
Oh, the joy! The relief! The time of taxi driving was coming to an end. But also the panic. Would my nerves survive? On the couple of occasions I’d taken him out in my car, my son complained that I was freaking him out, as I gripped the passenger door and lurched for the steering wheel when all he was doing was “swerving to avoid a bird, mum”! Not exactly a recipe for successful instruction.
So, I did what every worried, responsible parent would do: I hired a driving instructor.
Our chosen instructor, Jeff Macey from AA Driving School, was, in a word, unflappable. He was sharp as a tack, with a good cache of appropriate jokes on hand to ease the tension and a driving manual embedded in his memory.
Jeff told me his mother-in-law had been killed in a road traffic accident and his daughter had been involved in a serious crash. These events were what motivated him to become a driving instructor over seven years ago.
“One of the biggest challenges of learning to drive is getting your head around it,” Jeff says. “We’re all unique, and our brains develop at different rates. I tailor my lessons to the individual and try to be gracious in what is a very complex learning process.”
The first lesson started with six-foot Ben somehow curling himself into Jeff’s Suzuki Swift. I waved them off from the driveway, heart in mouth.
One hour later they returned, Ben’s eyes wide and sparking with stories. “Mum, did you know that some people don’t signal before they change lanes?”, said like he’d just discovered a new galaxy.
For lesson two, I decided to join them, to observe. Jeff was very open to the idea and said many parents would do well to do the same thing.
Jeff spoke calmly, telling Ben, “let’s try that again,” in a tone that felt more like that of a cool uncle who lets you mess up but wouldn’t let you crash the car. He used catchphrases such as “mirrors are your friend”, “read your road” and “look long”. With infinite patience, he made sure that Ben didn’t just learn how to drive, he learned the art of driving. He taught him about merging with the confidence of a conductor orchestrating traffic, and about parking with perfection.
Eventually, the big day arrived for the Restricted test. I can’t describe what that morning felt like. I had my hopes and fears stuffed into a corner of my brain, while the other corner was distracted by the fact that I was now old enough to have a son sitting his driving test.
When he came home that afternoon, the look on his face said it all: a combination of triumph and disbelief, like he’d just been awarded an honorary degree in Adulting. “Mum,” he said, throwing his backpack on the floor, “I passed!” And just like that, my son was driving.
So, parents out there with teenage drivers on the horizon, trust me when I say: get them a good driving instructor. Find your Jeff. Get them someone with the patience of a saint, the expertise of a pro, and the tolerance for “why do we need to check our mirrors again?” questions.
And when it’s all over and your kid is cruising around with their new licence, remember that, if they’ve been taught by a driving instructor, they may well have a better road education than you do.
Story by Kathy Catton for the Autumn 2025 issue of AA Directions Magazine. Kathy Catton is a Christchurch-based freelance writer who regularly contributes to AA Directions Magazine.