Well I started driving tractors when I was about ten years old, then had a variety of off-road motorbikes which I used to play around with on the land around the farm.
Thus when I was old enough to ride on the road I truly believed I already knew it all. Off I went on my 17th birthday armed with a provisional licence, a set of L plates and an elderly, ratty aircooled Yamaha RD250.
I learned my basic roadcraft the VERY hard way over the ensuing months, which was how it was in those days. I shudder when I look back! Then I got "caught out" by not getting round to taking my test before the 125cc restrictions came in the following year. I had to put my beloved 250 into storage and borrowed a 100cc bike which I took my (by now two part) test on. The first part was a joke to anyone that could actually ride a bike, though in hindsight the training course was excellent.
The day finally came for the second part, which was the "on the road" bit with the instructor sending you off round the block and observing from the roadside! After the first lap he pulled me over and pointed out that the indicators weren't flashing properly. This was due to the pathetic 6 volt electrical system of the bike combined with a slightly weak battery - whenever the thing dropped back to tickover there wasn't enough voltage to make the bimetal indicator relay flash. I said I was happy to complete the test using hand-signals but he refused, saying that if he did so he would be encouraging me to use a defective vehicle, with which he told me to book another test, turned on his heel and walked off.
To say I was angry was the understatement of the century. How I survived the 20 mile trip home without mishap is one of life's great mysteries, as it was all undertaken at V
max or close to it!
Booked the re-test, swapped bikes with a mate who had a newer model with better electrics and passed with flying colours. I still remember the glorious feeling with which I went home and wheeled my other bike back out. Fantastic!
Two years later I bought a car - a beat-up old Vauxhall Viva HB. I had six driving lessons with a local instructor and booked my test. Meanwhile I got the car taxed, MoT'd and insured with the unshakeable confidence of youth, that the test would be a foregone conclusion.
I remember zooming round the test route in what my instructor later told me was a record time. He was convinced I'd failed and the examiner had curtailed the test, but I guess I must have simply been "making progress"

. In truth I had about 8 years experience at "driving things" and a couple of years hard-earned roadcraft skills, so I suppose a fail would have been a bit of an embarrassment.
As it was I came home to find that my elder sister had generously booked a table at a pub for a celebratory meal. Whilst I remember appreciating the gesture, it was killing me to sit there when all I wanted to do was drive my car
without a qualified passenger as "going solo" was the most amazing feeling in the world at that moment. In hindsight it was pretty brave of her to accompany me anyway, as the pub in question was the Masons Arms at Strawberry Bank, so she had to sit next to the amazingly over-confident and newly qualified JT flexing his new-found skills over the infamous "Gummers How" road!