99 memory hooks for the theory exam

Picture a beer glass sliced perfectly in HALF: 0.5 = one half. The experienced driver may only go up to the halfway line, not a drop more.

The 2 in 0.2 looks like a swan shaking its head NO: the beginner with the L-plate may have almost nothing. 2 tiny sips and it's already too much.

Hold up your HAND: 5 fingers = 5 years on probation. For five years you wear the invisible green 'beginner' badge.

Think of stairs: the beginner stands on step 2, the experienced driver climbed 3 steps higher to step 5. Experience climbs from 2 to 5.

Picture the sober driver with a big 0 on his shirt: zero glasses, zero worries. Every drop is a euro out of your pocket.

Think: '2 = too new'. The beginner is still 'almost zero' behind the wheel, so almost no drop: 0.2.

5 years of experience pairs with 0.5 per mille: the two fives click together, experience and limit rise as one.

The limit is a ceiling, not a permission slip: wobbling under 0.5 still means getting in = getting pulled out by police.

Yellow sticker = yellow traffic light: yellow on the box means stop driving, not carry on.

A 4-second micro-sleep at 100 km/h = over 100 metres driven blind: your car crosses a football pitch while you 'just' close your eyes.

Coffee doesn't patch sleep away: it's a plaster on fatigue, only sleep truly recharges the battery.

Picture a giant swan (shaped like a 5) floating next to an empty plate (0) in a canal: 50 through town. The swan hisses at every speeder: 'Easy, this is the built-up area!'

Outside town a fat cow with a figure-8 pattern (two round spots) stands by a round hay-bale zero: 80 past the meadows. 'Ate-y, eighty!' she moos.

Autoweg = one car on a red sign, and one car drives a hundred: a 1 with two wheels behind it = 100. Remember: red car, round hundred.

On the motorway the 130 sleeps in by day: while the sun shines (6-19h) you may only do 100, and only when the moon rises do you leap to 130. Sun = hundred, moon = more.

Climb the staircase: town 5, cows 8, car 10, motorway 13 — stick a 0 on each and you get 50-80-100-130. Every step outward, the road widens and the number grows.

Picture two fat crocodiles lying on the road between you and the car ahead: 'one-crocodile, two-crocodile'. If they get squashed, you were driving way too close!

Think of a relay race: first your BRAIN runs with the baton (reaction distance), then the BRAKE takes over (braking distance). Two runners back-to-back = total stopping distance.

Double the speed, the braking distance goes SQUARE: 2 becomes 4! Picture a rubber band you pull twice as hard — it flies four times as far.

Imagine braking on a bathroom floor full of soap: your tyres SLIDE right through and you skid much further. Wet = soap slide = longer braking distance.

Rule: the worse the weather, the more crocodiles you add. In rain drop a THIRD counting crocodile on the road: '21, 22, 23' — extra room saves your bumper.

FRONT = Far: you squint through a wall of fog, and only when you can't see two football fields ahead (2 x 100 m = 200 m) do you flick the front fog on. 'Front at two hundred!'

REAR = Red and close: the blinding red rear fog is so harsh you may only switch it on when fog or snow cuts your visibility to under 50 metres (half a football field). 'Rear at fifty!'

Rhyme trick: 'Front sees Far (200), Rear stays near (50).' The big distance looks FORWARD; the small number lags BEHIND — like a small child trailing close behind you.

The moment the moon rises and it goes dark, flip the 'dip' switch: dipped headlights are your night glasses. Parking lights alone are like driving in pitch black wearing sunglasses — far too little light.

Picture it: a giant fog cloud first swallows two whole football fields (200 m) → front fog on. It thickens until even half a field vanishes (50 m) → now the red rear fog joins in.

Picture a library hallway: you walk on the right, use the middle only to pass someone, then slide right again. RIGHT = your home spot, LEFT = passing only.

Left = Lane over. If you can't see the END of your overtake, you stay behind — no clear finish, no start.

'Jam = Right is fair game.' Only when traffic clogs and lanes crawl may the right move faster. Open road? Right-side passing stays taboo.

The 'STRIPES-RAILS-BLIND' stop rule: on stripes (zebra), on rails (crossing) and in the blind (bend/hill), keep the wheel straight — no overtaking.

'He goes left, you slip right.' The left-turner clears the left side, so you naturally squeeze past on the right — mirror images of each other.

Be a 'polite host': when someone wants past, you step aside (to the right) and don't hit the gas. Speeding up during an overtake is rude and forbidden.

Red = your mother's stop light: round and red screams 'ROUNDLY forbidden!'. The red ring is a handcuff that snaps around your wrist the second you try something not allowed.

Blue = the blue sky where an angel grabs your hand and says: 'you MUST go this way'. Round blue = an obedient order, no choice.

A triangle pointing up is an exclamation mark without its dot: 'Watch out!'. Its three sharp corners prick your attention: danger is coming.

The yellow diamond is your royal crown jewel: while it sparkles, you are the king of the road and everyone bows to you. Yellow = gold = priority.

The point aims at the ground: it pushes your gas pedal down and says 'easy, let the others go first'. Point down = you rank down = give way.

Eight corners = the eight arms of an octopus that grip your car until you are 100% still. An OCTagon like an OCTopus: freeze completely!

Picture a bridge that's cold from BELOW and ABOVE — so it puts on its ice-coat first. The road on the ground has the warm earth as a blanket; the bridge dangles in the air and shivers first.

The faster you go, the more your car becomes a SURFBOARD: the tyres can't push the water away and you surf on, unable to steer. Ease off the gas = the board sinks back into the sea and grips again.

Count the zeros like football pitches: at 200 m the FRONT lamp may go on, but the fierce REAR lamp is so blinding you may only use it when fog nearly swallows you — 50 m. Front = far (200), Rear = right-in-your-face (50).

On the open road the wind is an invisible GIANT shoving your car — but behind a passing truck he vanishes for a second, then SMACKS you back the moment you clear it. Grip the wheel like a helmsman in a storm.

Switch on high beam in fog and you build a WHITE WALL right in front of your nose — the light bounces back and you see even less. Dipped beam = pierce the fog; high beam = crash into the wall.

Think: 'Tunnel = you go blind, so make yourself seen.' As it darkens at the entrance you click your dipped beams on like flicking a torch in a cave, keeping two counts of air between you and the car ahead.

Picture: 'Key in the lock, green leads you out.' You leave the key so rescue services can move your car, and the green lights pull you toward the safe door like a cinema exit sign.

Think 'two hands on the helm' like a sailor in a storm: the harder the gust, the firmer your grip and the gentler your throttle. Less speed = less of a plaything for the wind.

Remember: 'Behind the trees it's calm, past the trees the wind strikes.' Every time you shoot out of the shelter of a copse, viaduct or tall lorry, brace your steering for that invisible shove.

See it as a 'wind sandwich': beside the truck it's briefly still, but the moment you clear its nose the wind slaps you. Expect the smack and correct, so you don't swerve into the other lane.

Remember the '3 W's: Walking pace, Wet-test brakes, Waft/coast.' Through puddles you crawl at walking speed, then dry your brakes with a light tap, and if you start to 'surf' (aquaplane) you simply lift off the gas and keep the wheel straight.

Push a matchstick into the groove: if only the MATCH HEAD still fits (1.6 mm), you're at the legal limit! Chant 'one-point-six, no grip, big fix'.

Four wheels, four years! Each tyre 'ticks off' one year; once all 4 wheels have had their year, the car goes to the APK doctor for the first time.

Picture this: a car with 4 birthday candles on the hood (4 years → APK) rolls on tyres thin as a matchhead (1.6 mm). '1.6 and 4' — test time!

Three cards or no road: YOU (licence), your CAR (registration) and your NAME (ID). Keep the trio in your pocket, or the officer waves a fine.

Diesel gets dirty faster, so one year sooner: 3 years diesel, 4 years petrol. Remember the step 3-4: Diesel = 3, Petrol = 4.

Remember '1-point-6': a matchstick head just fits head-down into the tread groove. If you can see the whole head, the tyre is too bald.

Walk a full 'lap around the car' with hazards and a helper pressing the brake: use a wall or shop window as a mirror. One lap = every lamp checked.

Memory aid 'O-C-W-B': Oil, Coolant, Washer, Brake fluid — four caps under the bonnet you tick off to give the trip your 'OK'.

Triangle = 3 corners → 30 metres, the same everywhere: in town and on the motorway, always behind your car. Hazard lights already flashing? Then the triangle can stay in the boot.

Think 'hazards = alarm, not park': the flashers shout 'watch out, danger!' — not 'I'm just stopping here because it suits me'.

Picture it: hazards mean 'both at once', so you can no longer 'speak' left or right separately. Want to say something with your arrow? Hazards off first.

RIGHT is ROYALTY: the car on your right wears a golden crown, so you bow and brake. Rhyme it: 'Right goes, left waits!'

The tram is the KING who ignores the right-hand rule: far too heavy to brake, so even from the left it thunders straight through. Bow to the tram-king!

The roundabout is a MERRY-GO-ROUND: whoever's already spinning keeps spinning — you only hop on when a gap opens up.

In TOWN the bus is boss: blinker on at the stop and your foot hits the brake. Inside the built-up area you yield — outside town you don't!

See signs, SHARK'S TEETH (▽▽▽) or lights? Then the right-hand rule is OFF. Only on a totally bare junction does the right bite first.

Picture the zebra crossing as a real zebra: the moment its hoof touches the white stripe, you freeze. Still grazing in the distance? Drive calmly on.

Remember 'the bus is boss in the built-up zone': inside town you yield, outside you don't. BUS and Built-up both start with B.

Blue flash AND siren = both on, you pull aside. A flashing light alone (like a tow truck's amber) grants no priority; the blue+sound duo rules.

Red blinks = train knocks on the door. Two blinking red eyes are the train signalling 'here I come'; wait until both sleep and the barrier points to the sky.

The St Andrew's cross (a slanted X) means 'cross only after looking'. No barriers, no lights = you are the barrier: look left, look right, and the train always wins.

Think 'never trapped on the tracks': only move onto the rails when the far side is clear. A car stuck on the rails is a tin can against a charging train.

Picture a 1.5-metre door lying flat between your car and the bike. If the door touches the cyclist, you were too close — 'one-and-a-half, or they take a bath!'

The big truck turns right and 'forgets' the cyclist hiding in its blind spot — the classic killer. Twist your head like an owl to the right: turn your neck or wreck a life!

The white cane is a magic wand: the moment it appears, all traffic freezes still. White = wait, always.

Behind every stopped bus a hidden child is crouched, ready to rocket onto the road. Bus = brake reflex.

Drive through a school zone as if the street is covered in baby chicks: one wrong move and 'peep' — so crawl and scan.

Reversing means going backwards into the world with no eyes in the back of your head, so you bow to EVERYONE. Going in reverse? You're the humblest driver on the road.

The blind spot is an invisible motorcyclist floating exactly where your mirror can't see. Turn your head, or he 'dies' against your door — that's why it's the DEAD angle.

The acceleration lane is a long-jumper's run-up: sprint until you match their speed, THEN leap into the traffic. Jump too slow and you crash into the sandpit.

You were parked, so you're the newcomer crashing the party: wait politely until everyone passes, only THEN step onto the dance floor (the road). Newcomer = back of the queue.

Mirror-Signal-Shoulder-Steer: four locks you open one by one before the door swings open. Skip one and it slams shut on the blind spot.

Think: 'Reverse = blind, so you always yield.' The one going backwards is driving blind, so they wait for everyone.

The mirror lies, your shoulder doesn't. The blind spot is exactly where the cyclist your mirror can't see is hiding.

Remember 'Mirror-Signal-Shoulder', the M-S-S order: look and tell first, act last.

You're the guest at the party. The host (main traffic) stays put; you adapt and slip in between the guests.

The acceleration lane is a run-up, not a waiting room. Build speed first, then hop smoothly onto the moving train.

Don't wedge, zip. You ask for a spot, you don't demand it, so let anyone who gives no gap pass.

Picture a lazy cat that yawns at 2000 rpm: the moment the needle reaches there, it lazily clicks up a gear. Low revs = low fuel.

Drive as if binoculars are strapped to your nose: the farther you look, the softer your feet become on the gas and brake.

Foot off the gas but still in gear = the fuel tap shuts. Coasting in neutral (clutch down) leaves the tap running.

Think of the first of the month as 'tyre day': soft tyres are like running on sand, costing extra effort and thus extra fuel.

A running engine while parked is like a tap left open when you're not washing up: pure waste. Long wait? Key off.

See an empty roof rack as an open parachute on your roof: it catches wind and pulls fuel from your tank. Take it off.

Picture the hard shoulder as a hospital corridor: reserved for the ambulance and the broken-down car, never a shortcut for the impatient.

The longer word gets the bigger number: autoSNELweg (motorway) = 60, autoweg (expressway) = 50. Longer name, higher bar.

A red cross is like a wrong answer being struck out: that lane is 'crossed off', so switch out of it.

Green arrow = a green light to carry on; the flashing diagonal arrow gently 'pushes' you toward the side it points to.

Say out loud 'twenty-one, twenty-two' the moment the car ahead passes a marker; if you reach it before you finish, you're too close.

The glowing number with the red ring isn't advice but a wall of law: red ring = obey now, danger ahead.