The Driving Test


As I mentioned in a previous post, when I first moved to the Washington D.C. area I did not have a car and chose public transportation over buying one.  

See 


By the time I had decided to buy a car, my driver’s license had expired long ago.  In Sallyland — name changed to protect the guilty — when this happens, you have to take the written and driving tests over again.  This is no small matter, because I come from a long line of bad drivers.  My grandfather on my father’s side didn’t drive at all, and my dad didn’t learn until his late twenties, early thirties when he was in the army.  The story goes that upon refusing a superior’s order, he was banished to the car pool.  It was there he allegedly learned to drive, but not before wrecking the clutches of several jeeps and smashing another one or two into fences and walls.  (He was yanked out of there when the base commander learned a fully trained paratrooper in the 101st Airborn division had been reassigned to the car pool. Dad learned to jump out of an airplane before learning to drive a car.)


He never did get the hang of it.  He thought the dashed white lines separating lanes were there to center the car on.  I remember him many a time merging into traffic on the highway then immediately seeking out the dashed line, the car, once centered on it, never varying an inch left or right as if magnetically attached to it.  And there we would drive, cars honking at us, people giving us the finger as they passed by (usually on the shoulder since dad was taking up both lanes), my dad cussing them all the way to our destination.  

At Jones Beach, Long Island, there is a huge traffic circle that circles the Jones Beach tower, and all day long traffic zips into it from three separate freeways, merges, then zips back out scattering among the three freeways again.  And the dashed lines merge and scatter to.  I don’t know if you have ever been there, but if you have, you know that, with people driving 50 miles an hour or faster merging from three different directions and then scattering again, it is an accident pile-up waiting to happen.  And in the midst of this, here comes dad driving into the circle at 50+, car happily centered on dashed lines which are now merging into one another.  I’d grab with steel grip whatever was available to hold onto and push back against the seat like an astronaut preparing for liftoff.  And as if that wasn't bad enough, sometimes dad would lose his bearings, and we would have to circle the tower several times until he regained them.

My mom’s side of the family was better, but not much.  If my dad threw caution to the wind, my grandmother embraced it like a lost and then found again child.  Whether driving down a country road or a major highway, she’d drive 35 miles an hour hugging the far side of the shoulder. Ensconced where only work crews should be, she'd putt-putt along driving 35 in a minimum speed zone of 40 hugging the far side of the shoulder smoking a cigarette, the car going kaplunk . . . kaplunk . . . kaplunk . . . bouncing over the equally spaced gratings of the water drainage system, which also hugged the far side of the shoulder.

So it was with much trepidation I called the Sallyland Motor Vehicle Administration (MVA).  The lady on the phone was pleasant enough informing me that I needed a recent bill with my name and address on it to confirm residency.  Easy enough.  I had been living here for a couple of years, and the power, phone, and sanitation bills, were all in my name.  Then she added, “and a copy of your birth certificate.”  A copy of my birth certificate?  I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate.  I haven’t had a copy of my birth certificate since . . . since . . . since . . . I was born.  So I asked why a birth certificate was preferred over another form if ID that had my picture on it.  A birth certificate doesn’t have a picture — although mine did have my baby footprint — so how do you know it’s really me?  Well, it’s all about 9/11, you know.  Since 9/11, birth certificates are all the rage, and everyone needs one to acquire almost any kind of official government document.


After too many attempts, too much money, and too many months, I secured a certified copy of my birth certificate from the great state of New Jersey, and with power bill and certificate in hand marched down to the MVA in the back of a taxi cab.  Walking up to the counter, a big smile planted ear to ear, I placed bill and certificate in front of the lady.  She took the bill, confirmed my residency, then handed bill and certificate back telling me to get in the next line, the one for taking the written test.  

Me, no longer smiling: “Don’t you want to look at my birth certificate.”

Lady: “No, that isn’t necessary.”

Me:  “But the person on the phone said I needed it.  It took me months to get it.  Don’t you want to look at it?”

Lady:  “Not necessary.  Next!”

I passed the written test, barely, and went to another line to schedule my driving test.  There a woman with a younger boy about 16 years of age and a still younger girl stood before me in line, and the boy would keep yanking the girl’s hair.  After one too many yanks, the girl turns to the woman and . . .

Girl: “Mommy, Johnny won’t stop pulling my hair.”

Woman:  “Johnny, stop pulling your sister’s hair.”

Johnny:  “But she keeps  . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah.”

Woman:  “Johnny, if you don’t stop pulling your sister’s hair this instant, I’ll take you home and send you to your room instead of getting your license!”

Johnny: “Oh, all right.”

And I’m standing there wondering to myself, this kid is getting his license?  He’s going to be behind the wheel of a car?  Oh, my goodness! 

I asked the guy at the scheduling counter if he would like to see my birth certificate, but he didn't want to see it either.  Before leaving the MVA, I wandered aimlessly asking anyone whose path I crossed if she or he would like to look at my birth certificate.  Not them either.

After scheduling my test, I arranged with a friend to use his car to take the test.  At the appointed time, my friend picks me up in his pick-up truck.  I’ve never driven a pick-up.  We pull up to where the driving examiners are, my friend gets out, I move behind the wheel, and the driving examiner gets in the passenger side.  She is about 5’ 5”, 200 pounds, shoulders like a linebacker's wearing pads, a 29” waist, and the look of a disciplinarian.  

Her: “Ready?”  

Me: “Yes,” still worrying about driving a pick-up truck.  But I need not have worried, because as soon as I pull out . . .

Her:  “Stop!.  You are in violation of section AAA.XX. YYYY.ZZZZZ of the Sallyland penal code.”

Me: :Wha?  What did I do?”

Her: “Look,” and points to the windshield.

Me:  “What, I don’t see anything.”

Her”  Look where my finger is pointing.

I look.  Nothing.  So I move my eyes closer and closer until my head butts up against the windshield, and there, only visible from a distance to microscopes and authoritarian driving examiner types, is a nick about 10 microns across in the lower right corner.

Me:  “Yeah, so?  It’s on your side, and it isn’t obstructing anyone’s vision.  You can’t even see it.”

Her: “I can’t allow you to take a driver’s test in a vehicle that is in violation of Sallyland statutes.  You will have to replace the windshield.”

So I reschedule and arrange with another friend to use her car.  She has an SUV, jumbo size.  I have never driven an SUV before, let alone one that looks like it’s on steroids.  Doesn’t anyone drive small cars anymore?  Now I’m thinking about parallel parking, how bad I am at it, and how much worse I will be at it driving this thing.  So I suggest a practice session.  About 25 attempts later, I manage a successful landing. And with that on my mind, we drive to the MVA.  

This time my examiner is a guy who does’t seem to care much about anything, certainly not a nick no one can see unless they have a magnifying glass.  So, safety belts fastened, I pull out and signal a left-hand turn onto the street . . . 

Him:  “No. keep going straight.”

But the only thing straight ahead is this paved, vacant lot about the size of a Target parking lot. 

Me: “But there isn’t access to the street over there.”

Him.  “We don’t test in traffic anymore.  We have our own area where we conduct tests.  That’s it over there,” and he points to the vacant lot.

The lot is huge with lanes connecting bloated cul-de-sacs, and we are the only ones here.  Not another car to be found.  So we proceed with the test.  I turn left, I turn right, all the time using my turn signals.  

Him: “See where the road passes the cul-de-sac up ahead?”

Me: “yeah.”

Him: “Pretend there is a stop sign there.”

So I pull up to the corner, make a full stop, look both ways, then proceed.”

Him:  “That was okay, but you should’ve stopped further from the sign than you did.”

Me:  “I did.  I was just pretending the stop sign was further along the road than you did.”

Next he tells me to turn into a cul-de-sac and pull over to the right and stop.

Him:  “This is the three-point turn test.  You have to turn around turning the steering wheel three times, not 2 not 4 times but 3 times, and go back out.”

A truck driver driving a tractor-trailer could do a U-turn to get out of here.  But I follow his instructions making sure not to do a U-turn, the natural thing to do given all the space in which to maneuver in the middle of nowhere, which would result in an 'F' grade in SallyLaLaLand. Success, and in only three turns of the steering wheel.



Him: Okay, now for the last test, the parallel parking test.  See those two plastic poles over there on the side of the road?”

I look, and there they are a little more than a car’s length separating the two.  Here it comes, I think, The dreaded Parallel Parking Test.  I try it three times and screw it up totally, the last attempt ending with the car 3 feet away from the curb and at a 30 degree angle.

Me:  “I’m done.  It is what it is.  I’ve never been able to parallel park.  Whenever I park, I keep circling the block until a space big enough to pull into becomes available, like an airplane circling an airport waiting for permission to land.  If no space that size becomes available, I drive back home.  That's how I drive. I don't parallel park, EVER! It's not natural.  Do what you gotta do.  I can always keep taking the train."  

We drive back to the MVA entrance where he says to me, “Go inside and get in such and such line to get your results.”  Not good, I’m thinking.  He could tell me here.  I probably failed.

But I passed and got my Sallyland driver’s license.  It’s reassuring to know that you can get your driver’s license for a fee, and neither you, nor the driving examiner, nor the state of Sallyland, nor anyone else, has a clue if you can drive in traffic.  Drive, but never assume the other driver will do the right thing.  You never know, he could be yanking his sister’s hair at the wrong moment.



Comments

  1. Oh my goodness, you and your story are hilarious. I hate going to the DMV. The workers there are rude. Also, they don't care how your photo turned out on your id.

    Speaking of birth certificate, have you ever apply for a passport? In additional to driving an hour to the post officeI stand in line from 3 to 5 hours to apply for a passport, when it was my turn, I gave the teller my application, the teller asked me for my birth certificate which I did not have with me. I told the teller I wanted to renew my passport but I did not have my old one with me (I lost it, but it was expired anyway). I asked the teller to look in the system, I should be in there. The teller wants to charge me $150.00 to look it up. That is crazy. So I have to come back the next day waiting again and paid an extra $70.00 to have expedited.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. Ah, yes, the passport application process. I had never had one, so when I got my birth certificate for the DMV, I applied for a passport at the Post Office. I couldn't get an interview for several months at the one I went to, so I kept driving around from one Post Office to another until I found one that could give me an interview. The interview was silly. We, the examiner and I, were sitting in a room about the size of a closet with a desk between us. I expedited mine too but still have not left the country.

      Delete
  2. I expedited mine because it was too close to the time I was leaving, so I didn't want to take a chance it not being here on the day I was leaving. Mine should be good for the next 10 years.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I expedited for the same reason, but then the trip didn't happen.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Let me know when you get Dear Thief.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I will. I was thinking about going out to the book store tonight or maybe after my dr. appt. tomorrow. Is it a long or short story? Sometimes, I get bore easily when the story is too long.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Its about 325 pages if I remember correctly, but with chapters 2 - 5 pages long, which makes it easier to take breaks. If you don't want to read much right now, you can still read a chapter.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Thank you. That is good to know. I will let you know when I get the book.

    I will chat with you later.

    ReplyDelete
  8. By the way, I failed my driving test 3 times.

    This evening, I called couples of book stores in my area for the Dear Thief, but these book stores do not have it. How can that be? Hmmm. I went on Amazon to read the reviews, I am impressed. Now I am exciting about reading it. I've never read a novel book before.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I'm amazed that none have it. Guess you will have to wait for it to be ordered by the book store you visited yesterday.

    Failed drivers test three times? That must have been frustrating. Did you eventually pass?

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  10. NO, I didn't. I failed for parallel parking, failed not to completely stopped at a stop sign, I thought I did Forgot what was the third one for.

    Just kidding! I passed.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I think you missed the Three-Point Turn.

    ReplyDelete
  12. LOL, maybe you are right.

    I just came back from the doctor. I called so many book stores this morning including Barnes & Noble, but none of these book stores have this book. Well, I guess I have to wait until the library call me when the book come in. I even stopped by local library to see if it came in but it hasn't.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Wow! I can't believe no one has it. Are you sure you gave them the correct title and author -- Dear Thief, by Samantha Harvey.

    I looked it up on Amazon, and it only 272 pages, not 325 like I said.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Yes, I gave them the correct title and the author name. Anyway, one of my daughters using her friend's Amazon "prime" account to ordered it for me. It should be here in two days. I can't wait to read it.

    ReplyDelete
  15. I have never read a noval book and discuss about it before, so take it easy on me ok? I had read two books (from page 1-to the end) in my life. One is for school reading. Two is for pleasure. Other books, I read just here and there.

    ReplyDelete
  16. No pressure. This isn't school. We'll talk about what we thought of the book and the characters. So, you should get it on Saturday. If not, then Monday.

    ReplyDelete
  17. My daughter ordered just a few minutes before I wrote you earlier.

    I hope to get it on Saturday. I will be away on Monday for the whole day.

    Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  18. No pressure? Talk? Do we have to talk?

    ReplyDelete
  19. Replies
    1. Good morning Shadow,

      Thank you.

      Delete
  20. I added a Book review to my "Bad Books Review" blog. You can find my other blogs under the title "Other Fav Sights" on the right

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh yes, I saw that, but did not get a chance to look at it yet. I did read some of your other stories in the past as well.

      Thank you.

      Delete
  21. I have two links in Other Fav Sites. Both are book review blogs I have written. One has regular reviews "Right Drink For Right Book. The other has Bad Boos Reviews, reviews of books I thought were bad or even worse.

    ReplyDelete
  22. I think my next post will be about the library and my work there as a volunteer.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Hello, Anonymous!

    Did you get the book?

    ReplyDelete
  24. So you get an Alert when comments come in?

    ReplyDelete
  25. I came across your this post while trying to find information regarding blog-related research ... It's a good post .. keep posting and updating information.HGV Driver Jobs

    ReplyDelete

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