Life, liberty, and the pursuit of the Italian driver’s license

Can Americans Get an Italian Driver’s License?

It has been far too long since my last update. Over the past few months, I’ve been keeping myself busy (mettermi al lavoro) on several fronts, finally tackling a number of things I had been avoiding. Most importantly, I decided to face the one challenge I had dreaded since arriving in Italy: earning my Italian driver’s license as a former American living abroad in Italy.

If you’re an American moving to Italy, getting an Italian driver’s license is one of the most challenging parts of settling into your new life. Unlike tourists, residents can’t rely indefinitely on a U.S. driver’s license or an International Driving Permit. I learned that firsthand, and I hope sharing my experience, the facts and the frustrations, will make your own journey a little easier.

Once you commit to becoming a full-time resident in Italy, your American driver’s license is no longer enough. And, to be honest, I understand why. Driving in Europe is a completely different experience. Beyond familiar signs like “STOP” and “YIELD,” the rules, road signs, measurements, and even driving culture can feel like learning an entirely new language.

Arriving with an American license as a tourist for a limited period is fine. But if you decide to become a resident, your past driving history means nothing, and you have to start from the beginning.

I thought I had found a solution

During my stay in France during the pandemic, I declared residency and as luck would have it, France was one of the few countries that recognized “some” American driver’s licenses. It depended on the state that issued the license.

This saved me from starting all over just like a new French driver. I didn’t have to pass a written exam in French or take a driving test. It would have been a disaster for me. My French was terrible.

I had to jump through a number of hurdles, but finally after 12 months, my French driver’s license arrived. It was about the same time I decided to move back to Italy.

I knew that Europeans are free to exchange their licenses within the European Union. Problem solved, right? I could live anywhere in Europe now and never worry about a driver’s license exam…not so fast.

A few months after my return to Rome, I cheerfully walked into the equivalent of AAA in Italy, called “ACI-Automobile Club d’Italia“, threw down my French license, and asked about the exchange process.

The clerk behind the counter took one look at my license, and with a slight frown said, “Mi spiace signore, non può. I’m sorry sir, you can’t.”

She informed me that my American turned French driver’s license could never turn Italian no matter how much I tried. She then went on to explain what I was in for if I wanted to obtain an Italian driver’s license.

At 52 years of age, I feel like a kid again…sort of

I would have to start just like a brand new driver in Italy. I needed to take the written exam in Italian, enroll in a driving school (scuola guida) for six hours of driving, pass a practical driving test behind the wheel of a car, all before I could officially drive as a license-carrying citizen.

But the fun doesn’t end there. In Italy, there are certain restrictions placed on new drivers that I would have to follow if I wanted to drive legally. Motor size, speed limit, and special notifications on the vehicle are all part of the requirements. The law has changed over time. It’s best to review the latest rules and regulations for new drivers.

You probably get the picture of what my first year of driving is going to look like in Italy. I’ll be the Hester Prynne of the Italian autostrada zipping along in something like a gas-powered golf cart with Sofia sleeping in the backseat as Italians zip past me at 130-150 kilometers per hour.

Is it all worth it?

I drive so very seldom in Rome and find walking is the safer and less stressful option. If walking is not convenient, I have an e-bike, or else the bus.

When I want to leave Rome, obviously the trains offer excellent solutions. And let’s face it, driving in Italy in general is not for the faint of heart. After 30 years of driving in LA traffic, driving in Italy’s major cities scares the shit out of me.

But I think having a car will continue to serve me here. My life may not end in Rome. I could easily see myself somewhere more tranquil and perhaps less connected with public transportation and using a car more frequently.

So after waiting several months to begin the process, and with the clock ticking, I registered for the written exam to obtain my learning permit (foglio rosa).

From there, I will take six hours of driving lessons with an instructor, and then I finally proceed to the actual driving test. That will be the final step in achieving the Italian driver’s license (patente di guida).

Thousands of questions and dozens of conflicting answers.

Italy is full of English-speaking transplants who will lament for hours about the unfairness of the Italian written exam, the difficulty of preparing for the test in Italian, and the European system that requires you start as a beginner.

I remained optimistic and tried not to make it seem so daunting, that was until i received my first set of study books. My mouth dropped open when the package arrived. I looked at the stack in horror, not knowing where to begin. There were Italian/English dual language books, Italian-only books, English only books, and study guide after study guide.

The actual written exam is a subset of 7,000 questions! The exam pulls 30 random questions. You can only make three mistakes, or else you fail.

I started with the smallest of all the books, and it became my daily routine. It was in Italian and I found that to be the best way to study and increase my vocabulary.

There’s an app that accompanies the book that provides an unlimited amount of quizzes using the same subset of 7,000 questions. When I had free time, I was practicing voraciously. When Sofia and I would go for walks, she would hunt for other dogs while I took quizzes.

Frequently Asked Questions About Getting an Italian Driver’s License

Or, as I like to call them… the questions that will surprise you (or make you cry).

Can Americans get an Italian driver’s license?

Yes. Americans who become residents in Italy generally need to obtain an Italian driver’s license if they want to continue driving legally after one year of residency.

Can Americans drive in Italy with a U.S. driver’s license?

Visitors can generally drive in Italy with a valid U.S. driver’s license and an International Driving Permit for a limited time. Once you become an Italian resident, different rules apply. You have one year of residency before your license is no longer valid, and your insurance coverage may be affected if you’re driving without a valid license under Italian law.

Is the Italian driver’s license theory exam difficult?

It took me about two months of studying with the Guida & Vai textbook and completing online practice quizzes for one to two hours every day. I found it to be the most straightforward of all the books I had obtained.

Can you take the Italian driver’s license exam in English?

At the time of my exam, I wasn’t able to find anywhere in Italy that offered the theory exam in English. Some regions offer other languages, such as German or French, but English wasn’t an option for me.

Was getting an Italian driver’s license worth it?

Absolutely. It was one of the most challenging bureaucratic hurdles I’ve faced since moving to Italy, but it also gave me a greater appreciation for the country’s driving culture and a real sense of accomplishment. Italy has an excellent rail network and public transportation in many places, but having a car opens the door to countless villages, mountain roads, vineyards, and hidden corners that many visitors never get to experience.

Ready or not, here we go

I found an office near my apartment that acts as a go-between for residents and the Italian equivalent of the Department of Motor Vehicles. That’s where I met Francesca. She would guide me through the process up to my exam.

When I find intermediaries in Italy, I usually take advantage of them. They are worth what you pay to avoid navigating certain administrative processes alone.

The first time I met Francesca and explained my unfortunate license situation, she whined along with me and offered up, “Che palle…non ha senso.” Which is basically, “What balls, that doesn’t make any sense.”

I would stop by the office every few days and keep her posted on my status. She told me when I was ready, she would book the exam, but it would be another month before my testing date.

Two weeks ago I stopped in and told Francesca to book the exam. I was feeling better about the test and knew in another month I could be ready.

Later that afternoon I received an email from Francesca with the subject line, “Sei Pronto? Are you ready?” My exam was scheduled four days later. Oh boy!

Perhaps I misunderstood something along the way, but I froze in terror. I wasn’t getting that extra month to prepare. I was getting three days to prepare.

Francesca warned me that in the summertime it could be very busy with students out of school. I might have to wait several months for a new date. She encouraged me to try, while at the same time telling me how horrible the exam was for Italians. Her advice was, “Non preoccuparti. Nessuno supera la prima volta. Don’t worry. Nobody passes the first time.”

Always take your shot

I decided to go for it and take my shot. Even if I failed, it would be a good dry run to prepare myself for the next attempt. My expectations of passing were low.

On the day of the exam, I arrived 30 minutes early. I found myself surrounded by a group of teenagers, definitely being the oldest person in the crowd.

They were there with their parents, grandparents, and friends waiting with them anxiously. Perhaps they needed their son or daughter or grandchild to drive out of real necessity. It was a big day for them. They were showing support for a number of reasons.

Then I thought about why I was there. I could pass or fail and my life wouldn’t change at all. It might be less convenient for a while, but it was nothing to stress over. I didn’t need to prove anything to myself or anyone else, nor did the life of anyone else depend upon my ability to drive.

Ready as I will never be

The man who moderated the exam was a character that I won’t soon forget. He wore a burgundy-colored polo shirt that ended well above his large belly. While he called us into the room, he puffed on an electronic cigarette and jokingly yelled profanities at the young kids who didn’t follow his instructions.

When the exam was over, we gathered in a circle around the moderator as he called out our names alphabetically and read each person’s result out loud. So much for private shaming.

About half of the participants had failed by the time he got to “L” names. The odds were 50/50 when he said, “Lombardo, ce l’hai fatta. Lombardo, you did it.”

I was shocked and asked him, “Devo rifarla? Must I redo it?”

He laughed and said, “Ma che cazzo non hai capito? Vatene! What the fuck didn’t you understand? Go away!” Much to my surprise, I passed.

I walked out of the office feeling happy, but took a minute to observe the others that returned to their anxious families and friends. Some celebrated and some cried while being comforted by others. I felt for them.

It made me remember the time I took my driver’s license test 36 years ago and how I felt. A driver’s license was that first taste of freedom and adventure at a young age. It was the feeling that I was free to travel as far as my car would take me.

I hope you enjoyed my Italian adventures in obtaining my driver’s license. In the coming days, I’ll start my actual driving lessons, and I’m sure there will be plenty of laughs to talk about in the coming weeks. Thanks for following The Spaghetti Diaries. I hope you have a wonderful summer and find yourself on a road trip!