Please Don’t Make Us Drive These Again

 

What the Motability Scheme changed — and why the Budget risks turning the clock back

My driving life began in a three-wheeled blue “Noddy car”. It had the turning circle of a shopping trolley and the crash protection of a biscuit tin. More than that, it announced “this driver is disabled” to the world at full volume. It got me around, but it never let me forget I was different.

Then the Motability Scheme arrived — and everything changed.

Suddenly, disabled people could drive the same cars as everyone else. Not a special version. Not a compromise. Just… a car. That may sound ordinary, but it was quietly revolutionary. Independence without stigma. Normality delivered without fuss.

And let’s clear up one myth straight away: these cars are not free. Disabled people pay for them by assigning their mobility benefit every month. We invest our own money in our ability to live, work and contribute. This isn’t generosity; it’s a practical exchange that recognises the extra costs of disability and puts some of that money to work.

For nearly 50 years, the scheme has done exactly what it set out to do. Today it supports more than 800,000 people to work, study, shop, go on dates, visit loved ones, attend medical appointments — and simply get out into the world. Along the way, it also supports UK car manufacturing and thousands of jobs. Government, charity and business pulling in the same direction. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s worth protecting.

Which is why the changes announced in the 2025 Budget feel so misplaced.

From July 2026, new Motability leases will begin to look much more like commercial ones. Disabled people who need a slightly bigger or more accessible car — nothing extravagant, just something that fits their body and their life — will face additional costs. Any “top-up” payment will incur 20% VAT, which Motability estimates could add around £400 on average upfront. At the same time, the insurance that has always been included in the lease will become subject to Insurance Premium Tax, quietly increasing running costs.

Existing leases are protected until renewal. After that, this becomes the new landscape.

There is an exemption for vehicles that are substantially adapted for wheelchair users, and that is absolutely right. But most disabled drivers don’t need a bespoke engineering marvel. They simply need a car that works for them. Those are the people who will now feel the squeeze.

All of this is happening against a backdrop of gradual tightening. Premium brands have already disappeared from the scheme. Fraud checks are firmly in place. Even the mileage allowance — once a generous 20,000 miles a year — is now being discussed in terms of reduction. None of these changes on their own looks dramatic. Together, they signal a retreat from what used to be proudly described as “worry-free motoring”.

And when mobility becomes harder, the consequences ripple outward.

People find it harder to work or stay in employment. Social lives shrink. Isolation creeps in. Dependence on health and care services grows. Communities lose active participants. Even the UK car industry feels the impact when a stable, predictable market starts to contract. That isn’t fiscal prudence; it’s a false economy.

This is where the Motability Foundation becomes more important than ever. It already does excellent work funding expensive adaptations and stepping in when costs are high. But many more people now risk being priced out altogether. This feels like the moment for the Foundation not only to expand its practical support, but to use its voice — clearly and publicly — to defend mobility as a marker of dignity and equality.

Because Motability has succeeded in a way policy rarely does. It hasn’t moralised. It hasn’t lectured. It has simply treated disabled people as valued customers, day after day. Nobody wants the clock turned back to the days when our vehicles broadcast our differences.

What has worked for nearly half a century shouldn’t be undermined by decisions that lose sight of the scheme’s real purpose.

Mobility enables participation, productivity and independence. When mobility shrinks, independence shrinks — and society loses.

We’ve already learned that lesson.

Let’s not repeat it.