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Waiting at the MOT centre is the scariest 40 minutes of my year

Waiting at the MOT centre is the scariest 40 minutes of my year

Posted on August 10, 2025 By rehan.rafique No Comments on Waiting at the MOT centre is the scariest 40 minutes of my year

MOT test centre MP column

Hoping, waiting, praying – there is nothing more unbearable than taking your wheels for its MOT test

I’d be a hopeless sports coach. I don’t just suspect that’s the case, I fairly well know it, having spent a season ‘managing’ the Pear & Partridge FC, my local pub’s football team, 20 years ago.

Other than a notable 5-4 victory after being 4-0 down at half-time (local newspaper headline: ‘Lovely Pear For Comeback Kings’ – and yes, I wrote the match report), it wasn’t a spell that had Arsène Wenger looking nervously over his shoulder.

In partial mitigation, it wasn’t unknown for the Pear’s star striker to arrive for the match on a Sunday morning with a can of lager in his hand – whether still going strong from the night before or starting afresh that morning, I never quite knew.

It wasn’t the training or the tactics or team selection that bothered me – these were not high-stakes games – but the stress of watching and hoping. I found it unbearable.

I get the same feeling when I drop a vehicle in for its MOT test. Last week it was my motorcycle, but a couple of months ago it was my Audi A2.

You can check a vehicle’s MOT status online, so at some point during the hour or two my local garage had the car, the gov.uk website asked me to confirm I’m a human because I had refreshed the page so much to check up on the Audi that the system thought I was some kind of spambot.

The nervousness, the anticipation, the feeling of dread. I hate it all. It doesn’t matter how much prep or homework I’ve done: one of my vehicles is going in to be judged and I don’t know what the outcome will be.

It’s the motoring equivalent of Schrödinger’s cat. I don’t get the same feeling from the family Land Rover, because I don’t do any of the work on it. So it must be something about the feeling of being personally assessed.

What’s weird is that it doesn’t really matter: whatever is wrong I can just take home and fix. My job requires that I drive things, so there’s usually a car around if I need to go somewhere.

But knowing that doesn’t seem to help. I like owning, working on and using old vehicles. But there are a few hours every year when I think about swapping them for something new – a car or bike I wouldn’t technically own but whose problems wouldn’t belong to me either.

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