Millennials are killing the car, and other lessons from the DVLA database of driving licences

See what you’re missing? Image: Getty.

For much of the late 20th century, the mark of reaching adulthood was acquiring your first car. It didn’t much matter that, at 17, its duties were mainly limited to travelling to a menial job or picking up mates to go into town – the fact that you could just get up and go to John O’Groats on a whim was part of the appeal.

But recent data released by the DVLA suggests that driving is losing its popularity among younger people. Only 538,000 licenses are held by those aged 25, who number around 900,000 in total. By comparison, 54 year olds – the most saturated year group – share 880,000 licenses among 937,000 people.

This is clearly a massive decline, and not one easily explained by the lacklustre Top Gear cast change. But what can this data tell us about Britain today, and what the future looks like?

Young people are more urban, and likely to stay that way

Millennials and Gen Z – that is, everyone under 40 – are far more likely to be in full-time education or work, and that overwhelmingly draws them to urban areas where a car is far less necessary for short journeys. Given that major public transport infrastructure also tends to cluster around cities, it makes far more economic sense for many of them to use buses, trains, and the occasional Uber than to cover fuel, insurance and parking costs on a permanent basis.

Similarly, a car is a mixed blessing for a generation used to short-term renting rather than long-term lets or property ownership – it’s useful for moving, but an additional expense which rules out city-centre living in many properties without access to parking.

The question we don’t yet know the answer to is what happens in two decades, when the non-driving generation displaces the biggest drivers as the cohort in middle age. The trend has historically been for young people to move to cities, then to migrate outwards to suburbs or countryside as they age, raise families and later retire.

But without as many cars, with rural public transport inevitably less advanced than that in urban centres, and with the age at which people have their first child increasing, it’s plausible that the younger generation will buck the trend, remaining in cities longer and accelerating the trend of urbanisation.

The Centre for Towns data on migration out of London demonstrates that this trend may already be underway. With the exception of the Home Counties and Cornwall, those leaving the capital are not leaving it for suburbs or small towns, but for other large cities – Birmingham, Bristol, Manchester, Leeds and Nottingham, to name a few.

The destination of migrants from London. Interactive version here. Source: Centre for Towns.

Our roads are about to get emptier

Besides the ten licenses held by those over 105, the number of drivers starts to drop with the age cohort born in 1964 and earlier – and goes off a cliff once people pass 68. This is a consequence of the increased cost of insurance premiums, the additional bureaucracy of mandatory license renewal every three years, and increasing health problems which rule out driving. These factors are not about to disappear, and the huge numbers of drivers currently between 40 and 60 look likely to drop out of the system over the next two decades.

Licences held by age. Image: author provided.

That drop is likely to coincide with the rise of driverless vehicles, increased use of ride-sharing apps, and increasing urbanisation, all of which raises the scent of the CityMetric reader’s dream – a chance to phase out private vehicle ownership more generally, to the benefit of our emissions statistics, air pollution rates, and road traffic fatality figures.

But as we live in the bad timeline, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The difficulty and expense of running adequate public transport to cover small towns and villages in the countryside is just too great, at least for now. Still, a reduction in traffic is no bad thing.

Among young people, driving is more egalitarian than ever

There is no age bracket where women drivers outnumber men – the masculine image of the activity probably contributes to this discrepancy – but among young people who do drive, the gap is narrower than for any other group. Among 24 year olds, 93 women hold a license for every 100 men, while the equivalent figure for 50 year olds is just 87. This distinction is larger than it appears – 24 year olds are 52-48 per cent male, while the 50 year olds are 51-49 per cent female.

Drivers by gender. Image: author provided.

It’s the oldest generations where the divide becomes truly stark – of the 1,288 licenses held by 97-year olds, just 351 belong to women. Bear in mind, too, that thanks to differing life expectancies, there are almost three times as many 97 year old women as men.


The ratio shoots up dramatically among those aged 80 or older. The cohort of people born before the war would have come of age in the 1940s and 1950s, before widespread car ownership and when gender roles were far more strictly defined than would later be the case, but it’s still striking just how many nonagenarian men are confident in their abilities behind the wheel.

As numbers of license holders drop, it might be that younger generations show a re-emergence of the gender gap, as the declining popularity of driving ceases to mask discrepancies in work-related license ownership for heavily male occupations, such as hauliers, delivery drivers, construction workers and road maintenance crews. Then again, if the move away from driving proves terminal, it may not.

If you’d like to dig through the data and uncover more trends in our distribution of driving licenses, you can access the full dataset here.

 
 
 
 

17 things the proposed “Tulip” skyscraper that London mayor Sadiq Khan just scrapped definitely resembled

Artist's impression. See if you can guess which one The Tulip is. Image: Foster + Partners.

Sadiq Khan has scrapped plans to build a massive glass thing in the City of London, on the grounds it would knacker London’s skyline. The “Tulip” would have been a narrow, 300m skyscraper, designed by Norman Foster’s Foster & Partners, with a viewing platform at the top. Following the mayor’s intervention, it now won’t be anything of the sort.

This may be no bad thing. For one thing, a lot of very important and clever people have been noisily unconvinced by the design. Take this statement from Duncan Wilson, the chief executive of Historic England, from earlier this year: “This building, a lift shaft with a bulge on top, would damage the very thing its developers claim they will deliver – tourism and views of London’s extraordinary heritage.”

More to the point, the design was just bloody silly. Here are some other things that, if it had been built, the Tulip would definitely have looked like.

1. A matchstick.

2. A drumstick.

3. A cotton ear bud.

4. A mystical staff, of the sort that might be wielded by Gandalf the Grey.

5. A giant spring onion.

6. A can of deodorant, from one of the brands whose cans are seemingly deliberately designed in such a way so as to remind male shoppers of the fact that they have a penis.

7. A device for unblocking a drain.

8. One of those lights that’s meant to resemble a candle.

9. A swab stick, of the sort sometimes used at sexual health clinics, in close proximity to somebody’s penis.

10.  A nearly finished lollipop.

11. Something a child would make from a pipe cleaner in art class, which you then have to pretend to be impressed by and keep on show for the next six months.

12. An arcology, of the sort seen in classic video game SimCity 2000.

13. Something you would order online and then pray will arrive in unmarked packaging.

14. The part of the male anatomy that the thing you are ordering online is meant to be a more impressive replica of.

15. A building that appears on the London skyline in the Star Trek franchise, in an attempt to communicate that we are looking at the FUTURE.


14a. Sorry, the one before last was a bit vague. What I actually meant was: a penis.

16. A long thin tube with a confusing bulbous bit on the end.

17. A stamen. Which, for avoidance of doubt, is a plant’s penis.

One thing it definitely does not resemble:

A sodding tulip.

Anyway, it’s bad, and it’s good the mayor has blocked it.

That’s it, that’s the take.

(Thanks to Anoosh Chakelian, Jasper Jackson, Patrick Maguire for helping me get to 17.)

Jonn Elledge is editor of CityMetric and the assistant editor of the New Statesman. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and on Facebook as JonnElledgeWrites.

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