Well, I’ve neglected to keep you folks abreast of my quest for a drivers license. That’s because – like any good procrastinationist – I haven’t been religiously dragging my father to the car every night. Naturally he was himself reluctant to stare death in the eye, night after night. And the EMS didn’t appreciate the nightly call to restart his heart in Centreville at 2:34 in the morning. Anyway nightly became weekly and weekly became oh never mind.
By summertime I was back to my habit of overanalysing Cartoon Network programming and mocking George W. Bush.
Of course come August, heavenly Father, we saw the error of our ways. We repented, said twenty “Hail Marys”, and went back to braving the battlezone that is Northern Virginia, hoping to get to the DMV for the final exam by mid September.
But stuff came up.
So on more of a lark than anything else, I took my exam on October 9th. We threw out our game plan of renting a normal car for the test. Instead, I handicapped myself with the stick-shift car that did not have a right-hand side view mirror. But that did not matter. For after being the only car on the road to actuall follow roadside regulations like speed limits, use of turn signal, stopping at red lights, not trying to run over pedestrians, I got my drivers license.
Free at last!
Free at last!
Thank God Almighty,
I’m free at last!
Don’t have to worry about that.
One: No siblings whatsoever.
Also no car (it’s still being used by my dad. He insists on being able to get to work. I’m trying to warm him up to mass transit, but it’s no go.)
Sterling, you’re coming to Dope-A-Ween, yes? If you want, and I can get my big-ass suburban, I can pick you up and you can drive for a bit. It’s mildly difficult to drive, but if you can drive it you can drive a tanker.
Why on Earth you would want to do that is anyone’s guess.
Congrats, Sterling. The day I got my license is one of the best ones I remember. The feeling I got when the woman told me that I had, indeed, passed the test…wow.
The language I unleashed on my poor brother later that day when I drove him to Target, though…he’s never quite recovered from it. (I was yelling at other drivers, but I scared him, poor kid.)
