🏁 Part 3: Getting a Spanish Driver's License

Mind Games and Motor Skills

By now, we've established that doing anything important in Spain requires patience and a pile of cash, and getting a driver’s license is a masterclass in existential endurance. What many American teenagers accomplish in a few months with less than a hundred bucks, a couple of practice tests, and a few lessons with a brave parent white-knuckling the dashboard during a freeway lesson, transforms here into a slow-motion odyssey of paperwork, fees, and the longest game of hurry-up-and-wait you’ve ever played.

You may think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, but getting a driver’s license in Spain is undeniably more complicated than in the U.S. I can already hear the eye rolls: "Why does this tía keep droning on about a driver's license?" (Because it’s haaaard!) and "Where’s my paella post?" (Patience friend—in the mean time, here are my Spanish Recipes.)

For the record, I respect that Spain makes you work for the privilege of driving. Given how statistically terrible humans are behind the wheel, high barriers to entry make sense—but that doesn’t mean they’re always educational. At first, it was delightful: learning new traffic signs, mastering rules of priority, even memorizing where the clutch and brake are on a motorcycle I have no intention of driving. But then, suddenly, my neck muscles were so tense from reading practice questions with a level of scrutiny normally saved for legal documents. It’s fun—until it’s not.

Ultimately, the Spanish driving theory exam is less about learning and more about surviving a punitive reading test that demands total memorization, not to mention a litany of scheduling logistics. I’d love to know how many licensed EU motorists can recite from memory the exact width of a tractor (one of the theory test questions).

I’m genuinely excited for the practical lessons, but first, let’s squeeze every last drop of melodrama from the theory test chapter, which has mercifully come to a close. So buckle up—oh, and speaking of seatbelts: if you’re an adult passenger and don’t wear one here, you are financially and legally liable in Spain, not the driver. Also, taxi drivers are permitted to unbuckle on urban roads—I remember being very confused the first time I saw this happen. Now you’re ready for a taxi ride in Spain!

First We Study, Then We Schedule

After weeks of taking practice tests and scoring around 25-27 answers correct out of 30, I decided it was time to sign up for the theory test. However, scheduling isn’t as simple as clicking a button. It involves picking a week a month in advance, clearing five mornings, Monday to Friday, from 9:00-14:00, and waiting for the final date to be revealed. Think DMV-meets-Advent-calendar. Signing up through a driving school? That’s an extra €45 fee—surprise!

On February 4th, I paid the €94.05 test fee, took a €30 psychometric exam (to prove my mind is up for the task of driving), and the next day I learned my exam date and time: February 26th at 09:30. Getting to Móstoles, the city outside of Madrid where the traffic exams are taken, also necessitates a €10 round-trip bus ride from the driving school, a fee I accepted as part of Spain’s pay-to-play bureaucracy.

The most popular attraction in Móstoles: the DGT | Photo by PracticaTest.com

Test Day: The Bureaucratic Spectacle

I woke up that morning, took a city bus to the plaza where the driving school bus picked me up and then to the testing center in Móstoles. The DGT (Spain’s equivalent of the DMV) buzzed with nervous energy—driving school cars, instructors whispering last-minute advice, and students pacing with notes. At 09:40, officials crackled onto a microphone, announcing priority seating for those retaking the test after losing points on their licenses for serious infractions. Full names were read aloud—a modern-day walk of shame.

Somehow, I was first in line, so I showed my NIE (national ID) and was seated at a touchscreen station while everyone else was being seated. With the right-of-way-on-a-narrow-passage rules of priority still fuzzy in my mind, I pulled out my notes to review—only to be told to put them away. The test has 30 questions; remember: you can only miss three to pass. I took my time, triple-checked my answers, and finally, after 25 minutes, clicked “Finish Test.”

The Agonizing Wait

Post-exam, I did something deeply un-Spanish: I ate a snack while walking outside. My breakfast had been coffee and orange juice, and I was too drained to care about breaking cultural norms. After basking in the cold winter sun, I jotted down the six questions that had stumped me on the bus, comparing notes with classmates. Two were easy mistakes. Two other mistakes I was 99 percent sure I answered correctly. But two remaining mistakes remained a mystery the manual couldn’t help me crack. If you’re studying for your theory exam in English, I’ve included the questions in the footnotes below—don’t be me and miss the first two easy ones!¹²³⁴⁵⁶

The DGT promised results between 6 and 7 PM, but my busmates, armed with the app, already knew theirs before we returned to the plaza where we were picked up. Unfortunately, I can’t download the app because it requires me to make a separate Apple ID with a region set in Spain. So I spent the day and evening hours frantically refreshing the results page, pacing, attempting a failed run, and calling the driving school in frustration. Finally, at 8:30 PM, I pushed pause on a podcast I was only half listening to, refreshed the page, and finally found what I was looking for: "APTO." I passed!

You Passed! Please Hold…

The relief was immediate the following week—no more studying, no second exam fee, no nerve-wracking redo. But, of course, the next hurdle loomed: the two-month waitlist for practical driving lessons. Here’s hoping I don’t forget the road signs or right-of-way hierarchies before my turn arrives.

I hope you enjoyed this third installment of the driving license drama. Now we’ll take a brief intermission before the practical classes start in two months. If all goes well, I might have a driver’s license by the end of this year. And if not, well, maybe I’ll just bum rides from friends to get to the mountains and stick to public transit forever.

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Part 1: Getting a Spanish Driver's License

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Part 2: Getting a Spanish Driver's License

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1. Q: Can you drive with a license only in the MiDGT app? A: Yes, but only in Spain; you need your physical license when driving in any other country in the EU. (I got this one wrong and it killed me because it was so easy, but the first time I learned about the app was on test day.) 🚫

2. Q: Is a round blue sign with a white bicycle (the R-407a.) for cyclists only? A: Yes, and no other road users. (I also got this wrong. Sometimes, these signs include other users, but not this one. Whoops.) 🚫

3. Q: When entering a non-signaled pedestrian crossing, do you have to check the speed and closeness of other vehicles before crossing? A: Yes (the keywords are italicized). ✅

4. Q: As an exception, can you overtake at a junction if you have marked priority, if the signs permit it, or if you have sufficient visibility? A: Yes (the keywords are italicized). ✅

5. Q: Does this sign (R-112) apply to a car pulling a trailer less than 750 kgs? A: I’m not sure I remember the question correctly, but I answered “No”; there may have been a misleading answer that says the weight limit applies to the axel. I think this is the third one I missed. 🚫

6. Q: What is the speed limit of a 3,000kg motorhome traveling on a two-lane urban road (or was it interurban?) A: 50 km/hr (I’m 99 percent sure this is correct); other options were 30 km/hr and 45 km/hr). ✅