a train driver on the challenges and opportunities presented by autism.
I started on the railway in 2007 as a trainee driver. Before that I worked with the Ministry of Defence, so a vigilant approach to safety was already second nature.
Well, I hadn’t been diagnosed autistic, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t. Autistics are born this way and it’s important to understand that a diagnosis doesn’t change your ability to do a job you’re already doing. But I knew I was different, and so did my fellow trainees.
Some of them told my managers they were concerned about me being in the cab. This was nothing to do with technical ability, understanding or the application of rules – it all boiled down to me being ‘a bit of an oddball’. In other words, I was being judged on some of the autistic traits, rather than my ability.
From day one on the railway, we’re encouraged to challenge unsafe practices. But it wasn’t as clear-cut as it sounds. I recall one trainer explaining that the isolation cocks behind the cab bulkhead of a locomotive weren’t labelled ‘because you have to know which is which, blindfolded.
You won’t be able to read labels when it’s full of smoke from a fire, and you need to go in to isolate the fuel cock’. Asking what part of safe working included sending people into a confined space that was on fire didn’t go down too well.
Thankfully, my driver manager was able to see past my different approach to problem solving and my social awkwardness, and I qualified in 2008. We’re still in touch and I’m still grateful to him for his open-mindedness and the anecdotes he shared, which gave me the confidence to stand my ground and report errors and failures to the company, even when others are saying ‘but it’s always been like that’. Reporting is never negative.
Subtle technical changes can be highly noticeable to me. It’s a bit like being the canary in the coal mine. Other people might not consciously notice the rattling cab window, juddering screen wiper or the sound of a failing fan bearing, but that’s not to say these things don’t cause fatigue, and fatigue is a big problem on the railway.
Autistics are more likely to be aware of these sensory intrusions, or an illogical equipment layout, or an unwieldy process before they start to cause problems. Get things right for autistics, and you’ll make things better for everyone.
No, but there was one incident that really concerned me early on. Most drivers will have experienced a signal irregularity. In my case, not only had the signal switched green-red-green, but the second green had a different route indication and, crucially, well below the inbuilt time-out delay for when a route is cancelled and reset. The signaller was busy with a problem elsewhere and sent me on my way.
I submitted a report, but was told the incident I described wasn’t possible, because the system was fail-safe. No attempt was made to download my train’s forward-facing CCTV, which would have confirmed what I’d seen. Instead, I was taken off driving duties pending an eyesight test.
It turned out that my report was right, and I’d actually been given a green into the rear of a stationary freight, out of sight round a bend on a 60mph line – a worrying echo of the Clapham accident of 1988.
Some might think that being autistic increases this risk, but I’ve found the reverse to be true. Back when handsignallers were still able to authorise trains past failed signals, I came to a stand at a red. There’d been a lot of faults on this stretch and I knew the drill.
The guy in orange standing at the signal told said there was a track circuit failure, that I’d have to pass the signal at danger, and that the previous train cleared the line ahead five minutes before. I could have taken power, but something felt wrong.
When I asked if he was actually giving me authority to pass the signal, he revealed he was a fault technician, waiting for a colleague to arrive. How many other drivers might have fallen into this trap?
People are starting to become more enlightened about neurodiversity in the workplace. There’s a long way to go, but I’m indebted to those who showed objective understanding and unbiased support during my early driving years, before the term ‘neurodivergence’ was widely known.
It’s taken me years to understand the reactions of others to my autistic traits. I hope that sharing my experiences will promote a better understanding of the challenges we face and create a better railway for everyone.
I hope that sharing my experiences will promote a better understanding of the challenges we face and create a better railway for everyone.