It's the morning of March 6, 2026, at 5:21 a.m. It has been almost ten months since I started the process of the gaimen kirikae. I went in thinking that I was going to be able to change my driver's license from a California one to a Japanese one in a day. Those days are long gone.
Last September I asked ChatGPT, "What time should I go to the driver's license center in Konosu, Saitama?" I sat there watching that little orb pulse with full confidence that I was going to be driving by the end of that month.
I found out that not only was that not going to happen—my journey hadn't even begun.
Let's recap some steps from the previous parts.
Since last September the driving center in Saitama has changed the licensing procedure from a first-come, first-served basis to a reservation system, just to get your paperwork checked. In fact, not only do they check your paperwork, they write out the application for you in their handwriting.
All those years of non-Japanese speakers making mistakes on the Japanese applications may have finally taken their toll.
Let's flash back together to my first year in Japan. I had convinced myself that I did not want to drive. I had somehow thought I didn't need it at the time, so I didn't bother. As someone coming from the spiderweb of freeways in California, I was sure that part of me was glad to be rid of the burden of driving. But in hindsight, the reason I didn't want to drive was the intimidation of driving on the opposite side of the road, and I was afraid of the failure that seemed guaranteed—but that is a story for my therapist. Let's move on with the flashback.
I had instead opted to try getting a moped license. It was one of the only licenses that did not require a practical exam. You could take a ten-question test, pass, and boom—license. But I was not prepared for the conundrum that is the first-come, first-served system. I ended up having to go back to the center five separate times because I was missing a document or the application was wrong. That moped license never materialized.
Back to the present.
Since passing my written exam and taking pictures of the three possible courses, I have been online researching advice nonstop. Some advice was well intended but dated. Others were spot on but specific to certain driving centers in Japan. When I finally found relevant posts, it turned out to be terrible advice—announce every action in the car, others said to be silent, and if you made it through the course, you basically passed.
Let me just say it outright. The fundamental idea you must understand is tied to the purpose of the test. You are trying to demonstrate the rules and best practices of the road and that you know them. They aren't looking to see if you can drive a car, but rather the performance of Japanese driving form. It's a choreographed dance, and you are performing a recital in front of one single judge.
Reservation Recommendation
When the time comes for you to make the reservation, you will have an AM option and a PM option. I recommend the afternoon if it's available. It gives you ample time to get to the center, and—more importantly—an hour before check-in, the officers allow the afternoon group to walk the grounds of the course.
For the gaimen kirikae there are three different courses that are possible. The course is typically chosen on the morning of the test. I have heard a rumor that they don't usually change it day to day, but as of March 10, 2026, I have only been there once, so I cannot independently verify this claim.
Checking In
Think back to when you passed the written exam. The officer said, "If I call your name, move to the lobby before the annex and wait there." Then he took you, sat you down in front of a screen, and gave you the explanation of what was to come.
The annex on the second floor is where you will go straight to. You do not need to stop or check in anywhere else. As soon as the clock hits the meeting time, the staff will direct you to take a number. They are laminated cards with the kanji for 外免切替 (gaimen kirikae) and a number. On the day I took my test, the cards were white. For your purposes, if you cannot read Japanese, there is really only one kanji you need to know to ensure smooth sailing: 外 (gai), which means "outside."
Even if you make a mistake, the officers will check your paperwork and direct you to the correct window. Don't stress too much.
You will need all of the documents you were given on the day of the written test, including the pass stamp and the additional checklist that was given to you—the health and criminal check. You will also be asked to present your passport, residence card, your foreign license, and the email for the day's reservation. Show the phone. Just like on the written test day, they will not accept a printed copy.
The officers will ensure everything is okay with your paperwork and hand you another card with a number on it. This is your place in the test line.
The Cost
For the gaimen kirikae on an automatic transmission of a regular car, the prices are as follows. If it's your first time taking the behind-the-wheel test, the ¥2,500 you paid at the time of the written test covers it. If it's your second time or more, you will need to pay ¥2,500 every time you take it.
So far, counting only the bureaucracy on the Japanese side—not including transportation to the Konosu Driver's License Center—I have spent the following:
The total is ¥6,700 (6-7, 6-7, 6-7—ah, my students will be proud). In addition to the bureaucratic cost—the joke is the reason I did this—the photo will cost you ¥1,000 to ¥1,500 depending on where you go. If you are looking for a more detailed breakdown of what to expect financially when living in Japan, that post covers costs beyond just the license process.
The Explanation
After everyone is checked in, you will notice different officers calling out to groups of people. They will gather around TVs at different corners of the annex. Those officers will be conducting different tests. Wait for the officer who checked your paperwork. Congratulations—that is your proctor. They will ask everyone to gather, and he will go over exactly what you can expect. He will tell you where he will begin counting points, remind you to follow the laws, and explain how to treat certain parts of the route.
If you speak Japanese well enough, this will be very helpful, because it gives insight into what that individual proctor will be looking out for. If not, then "shiiiiiii…." You're not dead in the water.
The proctor will also tell you in advance that they will not tell you what you did wrong. They will only offer one point of advice, and nothing more.
He goes into other details regarding the course, but a lot of it amounts to "don't forget to cross your t's and dot your i's."
The most important part of the information is this: you start with one hundred points. As you drive through the test, if the demerits cause your points to fall under seventy, you fail, and they will instruct you to return to the start point no matter where you are in the course.
In addition, if you commit an automatic fail, the same deal. The test ends and they will ask you to return to the start point.
Once you return and park, that is where you will receive your morsel of advice. The last thing he mentions is what to do when you pass or fail. If you fail, return to the check-in desk, and a staff member will give you a new application to be used in addition to the one you already have, for tracking the next payment.
If you pass, you return to the annex, and you wait. For what? I imagine you might be asking. For the proctor to finish all the tests. When I took the test, he said it would be around 3:30 that day.
The Test
There are three possible routes for the gaimen kirikae. When you arrive at the annex, you are going to notice multiple maps with different routes. That is where learning that one kanji (外) comes in handy. Find the map that corresponds with the day's route, and ensure that the title contains the kanji.
The routes are all basically the same test. They include an S-turn, a crank, an intersection with a light, stop signs, two intersections with no light or stop sign—one with walls and one without—a railroad crossing, long stretches of road, a 40 km/h zone, and lane changes.
The S-Turn and Crank
The S-turn is a smooth left-and-right turn on a narrow road. The crank is a sharp left-and-right turn on a narrow road. When I say narrow, I mean when you walk through the course you might think, "Oh, this shouldn't be an issue." But when you are in the car going through the turn, you suddenly realize it's like trying to navigate Noah's ark through a river.
Two things to note. There are markers on the sides of the road to indicate if you hit them or not. Ideally you want to go through the turns without hitting them. Try to keep the car as centered as possible. If you need to reverse to correct yourself, you will have a few tries before it becomes an automatic fail. If you hit the curb, you fail. The idea is to keep the car slowly moving through the turn—keep it smooth.
Tips for American Drivers
A few things to keep in mind if you are taking the test as an American:
When making left or right turns where there is no traffic, check your blind spots for possible pedestrians or bicycles. The timing matters—check before you begin moving into position for the turn, and again when you make the turn. Key point: there are no demerits for an overabundance of checking. Bob your head like a chicken. Peck from side to side, look over your shoulder when you are doing safety checks, and take your time. Someone gave me that advice, and it was the single most usable tip I received.
You must engage the turn signal thirty meters before the turn. It does not matter if there are other turns before your target. Thirty meters is about a hundred feet—light pole to light pole.
There are more things to remember, but the above is what the officer told me after the test that he wanted me to keep in mind.
The Car
It is a white-plate car, meaning a regular car—not one of those tiny kei cars. If you are curious about what goes into owning and transferring a kei car, we cover that process separately. Imagine the interior was made in the eighties. It has power windows, but you cannot adjust the side mirrors—or at least I couldn't. The button didn't respond. On the proctor's side, he has a brake.
The suspension was loose. Any slight movement or jerk would rock the car back and forth. It was like driving a boat. From the annex, if you are lucky enough to see others take the test ahead of you, you think people are going slow. It wasn't until I experienced it myself that I realized the car from the inside felt like it was going fast. For both the crank and the S-turn, I was surprised I didn't hit the curb because of how wide that car felt.
The test takes about ten minutes to complete. A lot of it is you going slow, making turns, and managing speed. The S-turn and the crank are where you will have to go the slowest. There are no demerits for being overzealous in checking. You will not fail if you stop for a longer-than-usual time at a stop sign while going through the motions.
Walking the Course
Do not pass up this opportunity. I am praying that you are reading this article ahead of time and that you have taken photos of the three possible routes and printed them. This is where it gets crucial. Walking the route and analyzing where to move, where to signal, and what to check would have—if I wasn't so nervous—helped me map out what to do ahead of time.
There is one small unwritten hack (pun intended). If you are lucky, there will be other test takers there with you who have brought driving school advisors. The advisors will walk the course with them and explain certain things to their students. I followed a group of people who were there for a guy from Thailand taking the test. I couldn't understand anything the homeboy was saying, but the gestures were enough to give me an idea of what to look for.
The Verdict
I have taken the test once as of March 2026. I failed. The officer, I think, was rooting for me—he made small talk with me at reception. He was genuinely a nice guy. During the explanation phase, he told everyone that they would only get a single point of advice, but the homeboy metaphorically handed me a list of things he wanted me to remember.
I am not going to describe how he looked, because if he broke the rules, I don't want him to get into trouble.
When he said the ざんねん (zannen / "unfortunately"), I chuckled. This might have surprised the proctor, because he then chuckled with me. But in the same moment, I felt like a gigantic weight was lifted off my chest and I could breathe. I was so nervous. He directed me to return to the starting point.
He asked the third person in the car to exit, and that was where he gave me three points of advice—which I have already highlighted above. He commented that I looked nervous and told me that he noticed how in the beginning I forgot certain actions, but started doing them like I remembered. I think he was talking about the pedestrian and bicycle over-the-shoulder check. He was right.
Conclusion
Asking ChatGPT what time I should arrive at the driver's license center on that September day sent me on a ten-month journey that I am begging to end. My own anxieties—after hearing so many different experiences from people I have worked with in person and stories I have read on Reddit—had confirmed my suspicions after trying to get that scooter license.
I will never forget the look on the officer's face when he read my very first application all those years ago and saw "Heisei 89." That would have been 2077. I had misinterpreted his reaction and thought, "What a di—" in the same way I did with police in California. It was the same feeling of humiliation I felt when a cop tried to hit my brother and me with a curfew ticket for circumstances outside of our control.
But honestly, the weight lifting off my chest and my diaphragm relaxing after hearing the officer say I had failed the test—the laugh. That is what surprised me the most about this process, because one thing I realized above all: it's going to be okay.
Hopefully, by the end of your own journey, you get those magic words—「合格」(gōkaku / "pass"). And hopefully you are reading the second version of this article, where I finally pass.
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