Luke Littler, the 18-year-old darts sensation who detonated onto the global stage like a perfectly timed 180, has finally traded the pressure of the oche for the quiet tension of a dual-controlled hatchback. The reigning World Darts Champion from Warrington passed his practical driving test on the first attempt with a flawless zero faults, capping a rollercoaster journey that saw him crash through the theory exam six times before squeaking by on the seventh. With his full license now stamped and pocketed, the teenager who has already banked more than £1.5 million in prize money is free to slide behind the wheel of his long-awaited dream car—a sleek Mercedes A-Class priced around £30,000—and embrace the everyday independence that eludes most touring professionals.
The road to this milestone was paved with more frustration than a missed double in a deciding leg. While Littler was busy dismantling legends like Michael van Gerwen and Luke Humphries on television screens worldwide, he was quietly waging war against the multiple-choice tyranny of the UK theory test. Six times he sat in front of the screen, six times the results flashed red. “I did do a theory the other week but I didn’t put it on my Instagram,” he admitted in September, the sheepish tone of a player who prefers the roar of the crowd to the silence of failure. “Oh, it was a bad one—I’ll let you know that.” Each setback stung, not because the questions were impossible, but because they clashed with a schedule that already demanded flights to Bahrain, nights in Barnsley, and relentless practice sessions to stay ahead of the pack.
Yet the same grit that carried him from a 16-year-old World Championship finalist to the youngest champion in history refused to let the Highway Code win. On attempt number seven, Littler clawed his way to the narrowest of passes: 43 out of 50 on the multiple-choice section—one mark above the threshold—and a sharper 63 out of 75 on hazard perception. He celebrated the way only he knows how: by posting the results letter on Instagram with the gleeful caption, “We will have a look, of course we will have a look!” followed by a cascade of dancing emojis. The relief was palpable; the theory demon was finally exorcised.
With the paperwork hurdle cleared, the practical test loomed like a sudden-death leg. Last week, under the grey skies of Warrington, Littler climbed into a learner car with his instructor from Colin Price Driving School and delivered a performance as composed as his nine-darters. No kerbs mounted, no speed limits breached, no hesitant maneuvers at roundabouts—just a clean sheet of zero driving faults. His instructor broke the news on social media: “Congratulations to Luke Littler on passing his driving test today at Warrington on his first attempt with ZERO driving faults. Absolutely amazing achievement, well done—now enjoy that car!” Littler’s response was vintage: a single, explosive “Get innnn” reposted to his story, the same cry that echoes through arenas when the treble 20 lights up.
Freedom tastes sweeter when you’ve waited for it. Back in January, still buzzing from the £500,000 world-title paycheck, Littler had let his automotive ambitions slip during a post-match interview. “I’ve always loved a Mercedes A-Class—just a small car,” he said, eyes bright with the possibilities of new money. “Last year I was looking at driving and I loved Ford Focuses. But now I’ve gone up in the world a little. What model? No idea—just an A-Class. I don’t know the different models.” The confession was pure teenager: specific enough to show he’d browsed the brochures, vague enough to prove he hadn’t memorized the spec sheet. At roughly £30,000, the car is modest by the standards of Premier League footballers but a rocket ship compared to the push-bikes of his early teens.
He didn’t wait for the license to start spending. Months ago, Littler parked a mystery vehicle in the garage, a placeholder he teased in interviews: “I’ve got a car—and it’s not a Mercedes—but it’s sat there waiting.” The delay only heightened the anticipation. A recent nightmare on the M6—when a fatal crash turned the motorway into a car park and left him sprinting late to a Players Championship event in Wigan—underscored the urgency. He missed registration by minutes and vented on Instagram: “Not the best day today but played some decent stuff, but really glad to hear from a few of the other players that people have been let in almost half an hour late for a pro tour but I can’t be two minutes late. Says a lot, one rule for one and one for another.” From now on, he controls the clock.
The timing couldn’t be sharper. Days after his test triumph, Littler defended his Grand Slam of Darts title in October, whitewashing Martin Lukeman 16-3 in the final to claim his latest major ranking crown. This weekend, he returns to Wolverhampton for the Grand Slam group stage, and in December the circus rolls back to Alexandra Palace, where he’ll defend the Sid Waddell Trophy under fairy lights and feverish fancy dress. Most 18-year-olds are cramming for A-levels or stacking shelves; Littler is juggling multimillion-pound tournaments, global endorsements, and now the simple joy of turning the key in his own ignition.
Off the board, these grounded victories humanize the phenomenon. The kid who once dreamed of Ford Focuses before upgrading his horizons still winces at theory questions, still celebrates a clean driving sheet with boyish exuberance. As he eases onto the motorway—perhaps in that waiting garage sleeper, perhaps soon in Mercedes gloss—the open road mirrors the endless possibilities he’s already seized at 180 miles per hour. Buckle up, Britain: The Nuke is mobile, and the journey is just beginning.
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