Heritage and traditions mean little for the millennial generation.

For those born the 20 years after 1982, we live in an ever-changing world where old ideals and rites of passage are shifting or disappearing completely.

Even though we might be the richest 20-somethings in history, our propensity for smashed avocado, ripped jeans that cost hundreds of dollars and over-priced craft beers has put a crack in a bedrock of Australian society – owning a home – which is fast becoming out of our reach.

There is another rite of passage the techno-savvy generation is shifting away from, too, as an ever-growing percentage have decided to shun cars and the licences that allow us to pilot them.

I was one of them. For a long time I simply chose to sit in any other seat but the one in the front right with circle thing and the two to three pedals. And as a long-time resident of the inner city and out of the family home, the expense and time required to garner the reflecty piece of plastic seemed a bridge too far, and besides being chauffeured around wasn't all that bad.

However, things as they always do, changed. As I approached my 30th birthday, I realised I was no longer a wet-behind-the-ears 17-year-old but a man whose life clock had ticked into adulthood.

This milestone is often accompanied by crippling anxiety that one's fountain of youth is fast drying up. So, as my apathy decreased in direct correlation with expanded responsibilities (not to mention the fact my workplace shifted from the city to suburbs), I decided to tap into a – so far unused – bountiful aquifer that could sustain me for many years. I decided to learn to drive.

The task in front of me seemed easy enough; I mean hell, if the swerving, mumbling cabbie from the night before could get a licence, why couldn't I? So off in to the big wide world I went to gather the vital part of independence I'd been long told I needed.

First, I asked my partner if she could take me for a lesson. She refused. Not forever, but not until I'd had a few paid lessons with a proper instructor. Fair enough, I said begrudgingly.

Enter the lovely older man from the NRMA driving school and exit quite a few hundred dollars. Now, despite working around cars all day I will admit I was a little nervous as Surry Hills didn't seem like the easiest place to learn to drive; lots of traffic, narrow streets, a heap of pedestrians and more than a cyclist or two.

But here I was being thrown the key. My usual light-olive complexion paled to something quite unnatural, white knuckles gripped the steering wheel and I could feel the ever so disconcerting feeling of sweat trickling down by armpit. Did he really expect me to just, you know, drive.

Something changes to a person between the ages of 17 to 30, gone is the exuberance and invincibility of youth and in its place is a somewhat jaded and cynical person who is very aware of their own mortality - or maybe that is just what years of working in the media during the age of cuts, cuts and more cuts does. For me, I was now fully aware of the dangers on the road and the consequences that come with piloting a hunk of metal at speed.

The first lesson went without a hitch. I learned where to sit, how to place my mirrors and the usual information sprouted in 'Learning to Drive 101' plus a few laps around Moore Park for good measure. This learning to drive caper suddenly seemed manageable. And kind of appealing.

When the second lesson came around the following weekend, I was thrown straight into the deep end and out in the wilds of Bondi traffic on a busy afternoon in late spring. There were no laps of quiet suburban streets or a carpark to get my confidence up. All kinds of scenarios - none good - went through my mind, but a few deep breaths and a reminder of the basics I learned last week calmed the nerves. You need to trust in your ability - and the instructor's brake pedal - and try not to get flustered, nothing good will happen on the roads if you are inexperienced and stressed - play some Enya, have a massage, an almond milk chai latte in an avocado or something else to calm the nerves beforehand if that helps.

The next few lessons progressed smoothly. I had a crack at a bit of a freeway run, which is probably where I found the biggest issue with learning to drive. The main issue was the speed, or the lack of it in my case. As a learner driver in NSW you are restricted to driving at a maximum of 90km/h, compared to other states like Victoria or Queensland where you can drive at 110km/h.

Maybe this was just my experience, but travelling at 20km/h below the rest of the traffic - even though I was tucked away in the left lane - felt more dangerous to me than those extra 20km/h. Without being able to use the surrounding traffic as a sort of speed barometer I ended up spending far more time eagerly watching my speedo to make sure I wasn't going above the 90km/h than I should have, so it became more important to watch my speed than to actually learn to handle highway driving. 

But I also felt like a big slow moving target that was just getting in everyone's way. Being constantly overtaken by trucks and the like isn't great for stress levels, and I could only imagine it would be far worse for someone still in their formative years.

Interestingly, the speed differential between a learner driver and those travelling at highway speeds (which let's face it is usually a couple of kays faster than the posted limit) is close to that which NSW Police deem dangerous for anyone travelling over the speed limit. I understand the reason, but in my experience I feel more exposed to causing an accident than creating one if I was travelling faster.

As quick as that, my five lessons with the instructor were up and I was about to enter the next phase of training; the longer, harder slog that would test both me and my wife to be.

Over the next six months or so I developed a love-hate relationship with something that is just part of life in Sydney, mind-numbing traffic. It seems like peak hour lasts from Monday through to Sunday evening, like half the city was crammed onto the slimmest of roads. But I learned this is just part of big city living, and multiple friends told me that if you can drive in Sydney you can drive anywhere.

Parallel parking was another hurdle to jump, and most people told me this would be a big one, but luckily I was able to grasp this concept fairly competently. Although I did practice constantly, I would attempt them for more than an hour at a time straight after work or on the weekend. This all helped me learn the dimensions of the car, knowing where the corners were and the bits obscured from the eye, which in turn helped boost my confidence on the road and down narrow streets.

Besides a few blow-ups with my partner and the occasional cranky driver more than happy to use his horn to try and pressure a new driver into making a tight turn, the learning to drive experience went fairly smoothly.

However, one thing that most struck me through the experience is there is no short cut and the best way to become a confident and capable driver is to drive, drive and repeat, because there is no substitute for live reps. It simply just takes time.

Juggling a full-time job and an active social life didn't make the vital work of learning to drive any easier. However, luckily in New South Wales those over the age of 25 are no longer required to complete the 120-hour log book. Instead one only needs to have held the learner licence for 12 months before sitting the observed driving test.

This 120-hour log book could be seen as a deterrent to some in an ever increasingly busy world, especially those mature enough not to be living at home anymore. I know it was for me in my younger years. And this brings up an interesting point, as it seems I wasn't the only one thinking it was too much to get a licence.

According to data from Roads and Maritime Services cross-referenced with Census data, the number of those aged 25-29 in NSW that hold a valid driving licence of any kind has declined from 88 per cent in 2006 to 82 per cent in 2016, while Victoria saw similar sized drops. Those aged between 30-34 didn't fare much better with a drop from 93 to 88 per cent.

What has also happened is a larger number of people in those age groups are learning to drive later, like I did. The percentage of 30-34-year-olds holding a non-full licence had risen from 6.8 per cent in 2006 to 12 per cent in 2016. This was also experienced in 25-29-year-olds which went from 13 to 17 per cent of all licence holders.

In recent research commissioned by the Royal Automobile Club of Victoria (RACV) the study found that one of the main reasons for the decline of licence holders in that state was the difficulty of the licensing process. One sticking point in Victoria is you must be 18-years-old to apply for a P1 licence, compared to 17-years-old in most other states.

Another reason attributed to the decline of licence holders was the costs associated with owning a car, like rising petrol costs and exorbitant insurance premiums. And, as we know, if a few smashed avos on toast stop us buying a home then what more financial road blocks does owning a much more expensive and depreciating asset throw up?

Add these factors together, along with increased access to public transport, the rise of ride-sharing and an ever more compact urban environment combined with the mind-numbing experience of sitting in crawling traffic in any of our major cities thrown in for good measure, it all makes – at least to some – a convincing reason to put off the old rite of passage.

All those titbits are not insignificant, but now that I have progressed further down the road, I wonder how I ever managed without that vital independence. And to be honest, cars and driving is a fairly special and enjoyable experience and one that only gets less scary.